


To Love Like Simon

by disgraceRavenclaw



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: M/M, Songfic, agatha plays piano, baz writes songs in his free time, beginning is MESSY, but that is okay hopefully, fuck you, give me sooooooooooooooooongs, if i really wanted bunce could play drums but she doesnt, kinda not really, simon can play guitar, weep weep, yeah this is a trainwreck
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-25
Updated: 2018-10-12
Packaged: 2019-07-17 15:03:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 26,772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16098095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/disgraceRavenclaw/pseuds/disgraceRavenclaw
Summary: Baz writes songs as a hobby. Since 5th year, they've taken on a familiar theme, and he never thinks to really bring these songs to life. Until now.Contains songs not written by me, maybe i'll write a song for this. I haven't decided.





	1. Warm up

**Author's Note:**

> A reminder: no beta, we die like men

SIMON

I caught myself eavesdropping this morning. Not for any creepy reason, of course; just to keep an eye out on Baz. Something was up with him. He’d been sneaking off during the nights to the library, or sometimes the orchestra room. It was even more suspicious of him to be congregating with Agatha in the mornings. So I found myself eavesdropping.

  
Agatha looked at the sheet music, deliberating. She looked back up at Baz. “This is pretty easy. I could learn this within a few days. Would there be other instruments?”

  
Baz nodded. “Uh, yeah. Yeah, i’ll play violin and...sing.” Agatha’s eyes widened. “You sing?” she said, her smile widening. Baz looked like he would be blushing. “Yeah, yeah, I sing a little. It’s not like I take choir.” Agatha hummed, looking back at the sheet music. “I wonder if we could fit a guitar part in the song. Simon knows how to-”

  
“No!” Baz exclaimed. “It’s-it’s fine, we don’t need Simon to play this. It’s just an us jam.” Agatha tilted her head, blonde hair cascading down her cheek. “Oh,” she said, voice quiet. “Okay.” She slipped the sheet music in her bag. “I’ll practice it in the music hall later. I should warn you, piano isn’t my best instrument.”

  
“Agatha, you told me you couldn’t play violin well and then you played concert in d minor as soon as you picked it up, no warmups.” Baz’s face was smug. “I think you’ll do fine.” Agatha just smiled bashfully, batting the air and trying to stay humble.”Oh, stop it, you” she said, and laughed.

  
She laughed. Like that.

  
And they didn’t NEED me, it was just a them jam.

  
I felt my blood boil as I watched the two of them walk away. I know I wasn’t dating Agatha anymore, but seeing her with Baz just did something awful to me. It felt unfair. I just didn’t want the two to be together. I didn’t like how Agatha liked Baz.

I took a second to breathe, and heard Penny’s voice in my conscience, telling me I needed to find out more about this before I did anything stupid. Still, the urge to do something about it was eating away at me from the inside.

* * *

 

“Hey Penny?”

  
Penny looked up at me from across the table. She put down her breakfast. “What is it?” I swallowed hard, nervously. “Could I maybe run a hypothetical by you and get your opinion on something?”

  
I had a feeling that Penelope knew at this point that ‘hypothetical’ only ever meant ‘real and about baz, but you’re tired of hearing me talk about baz, so let’s pretend he doesn’t exist’. The feeling only grew stronger when She leaned back, arms crossed, eyes rolled. “Sure. spill it.”

  
I gathered my bearings, gripping at the table. I put my hands out in front of me. “So, let’s say that you like this one person, and you hate this other person.”

  
“Are either of those people named Agatha or Baz?”

  
I looked at the floor. “That’s classified.”

Penelope smirked, smug. “Okay. Continue.”

  
“Say that this person you liked didn’t hate the person you hated. That the person you liked actually LIKED the person you hated. And you see them in the hall, and they’re talking about ‘jamming’, whatever that means, and you get really angry. Firstly, is it justified to get angry about that?”

  
Penelope held her finger up while she took a bite out of a scone. After she was done chewing, she responded. “Of course that’s justified. I’m pretty sure everything you feel is justified. You don’t need to justify emotions.”

  
I nodded. “Yeah, I know, I only need to justify my actions.” I’ve heard it all before from her.

“Secondly?” Penelope said. I turned back to her. “Huh?” I wasn’t paying attention. “You said firstly,” Penelope explained, “Which usually means there’s a secondly, at least.”

  
“Right, right,” I choked, tapping the table anxiously. “Secondly,” he continued, “How does one go about figuring out what this jam session means?”

  
Penelope sat, her hand holding her chin in thought. “Well,” she said, “Agatha already told me what the session means.” I sat straight up in my seat. “What?” I exclaimed. “Why didn’t you tell me?” Penelope looked at me like I was stupid. “Simon,” she said softly, “If i had known before half an hour ago, i would’ve said something.”

  
My face flushed in embarrassment. “Right. I’m sorry.” I looked away from her face. Of course Penny would have told me if she thought something was going on. Stupid me.

“We can talk about this later,” she said, “I was gonna leave early so I could talk to my magick history professor before class started.” She began to gather her things and stood up from her seat. “Let’s talk around supper.”

  
“Penny, come on! You can’t just drop me like that! You told me you knew what was going on!” I said. Penelope looked at me, annoyed, and sat down again.

  
“If you really must know,” Penelope sighed, “they’re having a music jam. Agatha showed me the music and said Baz wrote it or something.”

  
I looked back at penelope. Her face and tone showed she was infuriatingly oblivious to the whole situation. “Are you telling me,” I said, “Baz wrote her a song?”

  
“Woah,” she said, putting her hand up in defense. “I never said the song was for her, just that Baz wrote it.”

  
“Yeah, and that I couldn’t show up, and nobody else could show up, and nobody except him and Agatha could play it,” I said sarcastically. I was tossing my hands around as I spoke, trying to shake off nervous energy. Penelope just grabbed my hands and slowly set them down on the table once I was done speaking.

  
She looked at me, eyes turned down and glasses sliding down her nose a little. “Simon Snow,” she said slowly. I didn’t know what to say. “Penelope Bunce,” I replied, just as slowly. She grabbed my hands tighter and her expression became less soft.

  
“Promise me you won’t crash their plans or do anything dumb.”

  
I just kept looking at her in silence. I tried to weasle my hands out of her grip, but she squeezed them harder, pressing my hands into the table and making me wince.

“Promise me,” she repeated, “you won’t crash their plans or do anything dumb.”

  
I stayed quiet for a few more seconds. She didn’t move. I sighed in defeat. “I promise you I won’t crash their plans or do anything dumb,” I said, giving in. But she didn’t move.

“Do you mean that?”

  
“Yes, Penny. I mean it. I promise.”

  
“And don’t tell Agatha that I told you, okay?”she said quietly.

I nodded. “She doesn’t have to know. As long as you don’t tell Baz that I know either.”

  
Penelope let go of my hands. “Okay,” she said, gathering her things again. “We’re still meeting up to talk during foods class, though.” She stood and left the table.  
I nodded, and sighed, finishing my food.

BAZ

Simon has been giving me angry looks during class today. I don’t want to think it’s anything more than our usual rivalry, but it feels even more emotionally charged than usual. I wonder if I’ve done something to upset him. Hopefully not.

  
Before I knew it, it was time for Lunch. Me and Agatha said we would sit together to talk more about the music I was writing. I had no trouble spotting her bright blonde hair in the crowd of students. I sat next to her, setting my food down.

  
“Baz!” she said, smiling politely. “There you are, I almost thought you wouldn’t show up.” She sounded relieved. “I wanted to talk to you about the lyrics to the song.”

  
“Oh?” I said. “What about them?”

  
“What are they?” she inquired.

  
I just took a bite of my food, trying to prolong answering the question for as long as possible. Eventually, though, I had to. “I don’t really wanna share them.”

  
Agatha leaned forward a little bit. “Please?” she pleaded. “If I know what the song is about, maybe I can get a better idea of what tone this could be played in? Where to play it softer or louder, or slower. It adds mood!” she reasoned. I couldn’t argue with that, but the lyrics were kind of embarrassing. I was still worried about singing them out loud.

  
Giving in, I grabbed my bag and pulled out a couple pieces of paper. The lyrics were written in pen, and a couple of them were scratched out (nothing but the best for this song, after all. There was a lot of revising.) with new lyrics written to the side. Hesitantly, I handed them to Agatha.

  
Agatha took the papers carefully, eyes shifting left to right as she read the words. When she reached the end of the first verse, her eyes lit up. She continued to scan the paper, and I could tell she was skipping over some lines. “Baz,” she said, when she was finished reading. “This is lovely.” She looked up at me, eyes full of stars. “Who is this for?”

  
Well, that I definitely couldn’t answer. Oh, nobody in particular, i would say, just your hot ex, Simon, who hates me. “That’s a secret,” i told her. I almost expected her to continue prying, but she handed the papers back and grinned. “It’s okay, I get it. If i were crushing this hard over someone, i wouldn’t tell anyone either.” she winked. If i could be blushing in embarrassment, I would be.

“Thanks, Ag.”

  
I felt eager to get out of that situation. I took the papers back from her and tried to finish eating as quickly as I could. As soon as all of the food was gone from in front of me, I got up to leave. Thinking up an excuse, I told Agatha I had to be at my class early.

  
As I was walking, I thought I heard Simon saying something hushed. He was usually so loud in the halls, I could hear him from where me, Dev, and Niall sat, but I hadn’t heard a word from him all morning. My curiosity got the best of me as I heard him say promise.

  
I hesitated, but the last few words were jumbled. I snuck closer, trying to get within hearing range of the conversation. I sat down at a table out of their line of sight to listen in. Simon and Bunce were holding hands. Fiercely. Penelope was gripping Simon’s hands with a kind of emotion that made Baz very uneasy.

  
“Do you mean that?” Bunce said. I squinted. Mean what? I thought. Suddenly, I wished I had heard Simon’s original promise.

  
“Yes, Penny. I mean it. I promise.” Simon’s voice was low, and sincere. Maybe I was overthinking this, but it sounded more than friendly. Then again, Simon and Bunce were friendly to a sickening point. Maybe it really was just platonic, and my panicked gay bias was clouding my better judgement.

“And don’t tell Agatha that I told you, okay?”  
“She doesn’t have to know.” Nope, this definitely wasn’t my bias. Why wouldn’t Agatha need to know? Were they…? I refused to think about it. I felt dizzy, and mad. I never felt this way while Simon was dating Agatha.

Somehow, the notion of Simon choosing Bunce over me made sense, but felt more insulting.

  
“Okay. We’re still meeting up to talk during foods class, though.”

  
And they planned a date.

  
I got up quietly and left my seat, stomping so hard i could’ve dented the floor where I walked. Suddenly, the song I wrote felt so bittersweet.

PENELOPE

I was on my way to magick history when I saw Agatha walking beside me. I looked over at her. “Hey, Agatha,” I said. “Shouldn’t you be eating breakfast?”

  
She gripped the strap of her bag. “No, I finished already. I got a light breakfast because I was talking to Baz, and I didn’t want my mouth full.” I felt a nervous shock run up my spine. “Oh, yeah? What were you two talking about?”

  
Agatha brushed a strand of blonde hair behind her ear. “I don’t know if I should tell you,” she said teasingly, obviously wanting to tell me. I decided to try and get whatever information I could out of her, anything to convince Simon that his suspicions were misplaced. “Spill,” I said. That was all it took.

  
“Well,” she said, clasping her hands together. “Remember how I told you about me and Baz getting together to practice some music he wrote because he needed a part for piano?”

  
“Right,” I responded. “Any updates on that?”

  
“He let me read the lyrics,” she said, “and they were beautiful. I didn’t know he could write like that! I’m almost jealous. I am jealous, actually.” She walked a little faster. “Do you want to hear some of the lyrics?”

  
I shook my head. “Nah, Agatha, i’m good. I would like to know if you knew what it was about, though.”

  
“It was a love song,” Agatha said, unknowingly causing my whole body to spasm with panic internally. “A...love song?” I murmured. Well, maybe Simon was actually right this time. “Actually, Agatha, can I hear some of those lyrics?”

  
Agatha grinned. “Yes. Oh...they're already kind of falling out of my memory, so this might not be exactly it… I think it went...I always knew I was bad, well i’m sure it’s true, cause i think you’re so good, and i’m nothing like you.” She read the lyrics out like a poem. They felt unnatural without a melody. “It sounds sad, but really beautiful.

  
I tried shaking off my nerves. “I didn’t know Baz even felt love,” I joked. Agatha frowned. “He does. I just don’t know about who,” she confessed. I had to do a double take. “Who do you think it’s about?” I tried asking.

Agatha rushed ahead of me into her first class of the day (maths), seeming apprehensive to answer. “I don’t know,” she shot back quickly, stopping in the doorway. “This is my stop,” she said. “Bye, Penelope."

  
“Bye, Agatha.” I waved to her as she rushed into her classroom, and continued my journey to magick history. I deliberated on the song Baz wrote for a while. Maybe there’s more to this than I first thought. Maybe Simon’s paranoia really IS justified. But mostly, I tried to ignore the growing ugly feeling in my gut, and I head into class.

SIMON

I shared my first class with Baz, and i'm almost sure he could feel me staring holes into the back of his head. He tapped on the desk nervously, his long fingernails making clicking noises on the hardwood surface. I could tell he was nervous, because his nails tapped a mile a minute. I didn’t stop staring.

  
Halfway through class, he finally grabbed the edge of the table and looked back at me. His grey eyes were cold with annoyance. He glared at me, silently asking me to stop. I responded by squinting, and continuing to stare at him. He just groaned, turning back around to pay attention to class. I could feel his anger growing.

  
I watched him pull a few papers out of his bag. Notebook paper, with red pen writing (I would say red as blood, but that would be cliche, even if he did write it with blood). The words were messy, but I could make out a few of the clearer ones.

  
If i....begin...half of….think…...do…...i could…..learn…..

  
I squinted harder, leaning forward to read the messy words.

  
When I see….you…..shaken…..how long…. Could do….anything...even... love like...

  
Suddenly, the paper was pulled out of view. I turned my focus back to Baz. He was pressing the paper against his chest, staring at me. His face was painted with rage, but I could see a bit of embarrassment in his eyes.

I wanted to ask him what the paper was, not doubting for a second it was something suspicious. Maybe it was that song Penelope was talking about.

  
I let the topic be for the rest of class. After class ended, however, I made a point to rush after Baz and catch him before he was out the door. Though I tried my hardest, it seemed Baz was also doing his best to get out of there fast, and avoid me. I’d confront him when we got back to our dorms that day, and hopefully, he’d respect the anathema.

BAZ

Through all of first period, I felt someone staring at me from behind. I knew who it was; it was the same person as every day in that class. I tried to ignore Simon at first, hoping he would give up eventually, but he never did.

I drummed my fingers along the desk to expend my nervous energy. Soon, the urge became to great. I had to turn around and glare at Simon.

  
He just squinted at me in defiance. Usually, being watched wouldn’t bother me so much. I always felt oddly flattered. But right now, it was making me really anxious. I wasn’t sure why.

I pulled my song out of my bag in an attempt to calm myself down. I read through the lyrics slowly and carefully. It was good to remind myself I loved Simon some days; I knew we were doomed, but it always made me feel better to know that I could love. That I wasn’t the monster I made myself out to be.

  
And then I remembered what was making me anxious in the first place.

  
I pulled the paper closer to me and whipped my head around. I met Simon’s blue eyes. He was looking at the song, I thought. I was mad at him, but also mad at myself (You know, for pulling out the super secret song lyrics I wrote about my crush while knowing fully well he was watching me).

  
After class ended, I saw him struggling to get out of his seat faster than usual, but some other people blocked his path. He looked like he was coming to confront me. I couldn’t have that. I was on the end of my row, so I left my seat and got moving as fast as possible.

  
Once that class was over, I had english with Agatha- and no Simon. As I walked to my seat, I saw her approach. She handed me a paper before walking back to her desk. I watched her as she left, and when she was fully sat, she watched me eagerly as I just stood there dumbfounded, waiting for me to open the folded paper.

  
I sat down at my desk, turning the paper over in my hands. No writing on the outside. It was lined notebook paper, and one edge was torn haphazardly from a spiral. I unfolded the paper and read the message inside.

  
_Should we meet up in the orchestra room together to practice the song? Maybe around 19:00?_

I looked up at Agatha and nodded, giving her a thumbs up. She smiled, and went back to working. 19:00 worked fine for me; Simon got to their dorm at 18:40 most nights, so if Baz went to the orchestra room and prolonged the practice long enough, it could be a proper excuse to not confront Simon about what he saw during their first class.

  
English came and went, and as I left for my next class, I precalculated the route in my head so Simon and I wouldn’t see each other. Whenever I saw a sweep of blonde curls in the crowd, I turned to another hallway. It made me late for magickal creatures class, but whatever works.

  
I hadn’t realized the note from Agatha wasn’t on me until halfway through that class.

SIMON

After Latin with baz, I had foods with Penelope. We were working together on an assignment about oven safety, but both of us had already finished, so I decided to talk about Baz instead. Not because I was becoming obsessive (It was also because of that, but i’d never admit it), but because Penny looked nervous.

  
“Any updates on the jam between Agatha and Baz?” I asked innocently. That made her jump a little. “Yeah, just one.”

  
“And that is?”

  
Penny rolled uncomfortably in her seat. “Well,” she began, trying to delay her message. “I was talking to Agatha in the hall after breakfast, and she shared with me the lyrics to Baz’s song. A few of them. I didn’t see the actual paper.”

My attention piqued. “I think i might have seen the papers. Baz pulled them out during class. Just to look at them. He didn’t write anything. Maybe he’s taunting me.”

  
“How much of it did you read?” she asked, curious.

  
“Barely any,” I replied. “Baz has horrendous handwriting when he’s not working on a school project. I got out a few words. Can barely remember any.”

“The lyrics Agatha told me,” Penelope supplied, “Were for a love song.”

“What were they?”

"Something about being bad. Loving someone good. Not being like them. I don’t remember the exact words.” Penelope looked down at her desk and drummed her fingers twice. "Simon, let’s not jump to any conclusions,” she offered, probably feeling me tense up.

“Penelope, you don’t understand,” I said. “I finally have proof that something more is going on here!” I was practically stage whispering at this point. She grabbed my hand and squeezed it so tightly, all the bones in my hand felt like they were breaking.

“Simon, you promised me that you wouldn’t crash their plans or do anything dumb!”

I pulled my hand away, gathering all my strength. It still took me a few seconds. "Penny,” I whispered quieter, “I won’t crash their plans. I’m just going to observe the jam.”

Penelope looked at me like I told her i was plotting bloody homicide. “You’re going to spy on them?” She asked, incredulous.

“Simon, that’s almost worse.”

I shook my head. “I have to make sure nothing is going on between them.”

“Why?” Penelope said after some time. “You and Agatha aren’t even dating anymore. This feels controlling.”

I squinted my eyes at the accusation. “Penelope, I am not a controlling person. If it were anyone else, i’d be happy for her, But this is Baz. I’m still not entirely sure he isn’t plotting to kill her.”

“Honestly, at this point, I wouldn’t be surprised if you were jealous of Agatha. Baz this, Baz that. Now that Baz has Agatha’s attention, he doesn’t need yours.” Penelope shot back. She wore a mischievous smile.

I felt my face flush. “Don’t even suggest the thought. I hate Baz. I don’t want his attention; I want his attention directed away from Agatha.”

"Right. And towards you?” Penelope retorted.  
I ignored her.

After class ended, I went to my next class; English. I should have seen Baz along the way, but I didn’t see him. Maybe I missed him.

Or maybe he’s avoiding me.  
I walked into the classroom, and towards my desk. I shared the desk that Baz used in the class prior; It was one of the ways we got at each other. Little notes stuck to the bottom that he knew I would find.

Before I got to my seat, I slipped and fell on my face. A couple students laughed, and a few people asked me if I was okay. I dismissed their concerns, looking up to see what tripped me. Apparently, I slid on a folded up paper.

I picked it up. A note from Baz? That’s what I thought at first, but as I sat down to read the note, I recognized Agatha’s pristine cursive handwriting in a dark blue ink.

_Should we meet up in the orchestra room together to practice the song? Maybe around 19:00?_

I felt upset at first (of course i did), but then I rejoiced. I had a time and a place. The game was on tonight. Baz didn’t know what he had coming.


	2. First Movement

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Baz has worked extra hard on this song. Agatha can't wait to play. Simon can't wait to hear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No beta we die like men

BAZ

I was already in the orchestra room by 18:50. I was waiting by the piano for Agatha to show up. As I waited, I pulled out the lyrics from my bag, practicing a few of the lines. This felt so much like an audition. It made me nervous.

Agatha showed up at 19:06. She came in apologizing. “Sorry, sorry,” she spouted. She clutched her sheet music tightly. “I lost my sheet music for a second and had to find it. But i’m here now.”

I nodded. “Okay. Good. Can I hear you play?”  
She grinned. “Yeah, sure.” she sat down and put the music up on the piano stand. She tested out a few chords, before playing them in time. I shook my head. “No,” I mentioned.

“It has a sort of swing to it. Like jazz.”

“Oh,” agatha said, “like this?”

She played it again, and this time, it sounded just fine. “Yes, like that,” I said. I took out my violin, and plucked a few strands before playing.

I started out by just humming the lyrics to myself. I still felt too nervous singing in front of anyone else. The lyrics I wrote were vulnerable. They were insecure. I was putting my heart on the page. But as I continued playing, I worked up the courage to sing a few words.

SIMON

I snuck outside after dumping my stuff in my room. Baz made it to the dorm before me, and everything was there but his violin case.

I made it to the orchestra room just as Agatha ran in. she apologized to Baz for being late. They sat down by the piano and she began playing. I always loved the way she played. Piano was a beautiful instrument.

Then Baz joined in.

If you were to ask me, Simon is there even ONE thing you like about Baz? His violin skills would come to mind first. Somehow, the haunting tone of the instrument fit him very well. He was fantastic at it; better than I could ever be at any instrument, thought I was good at guitar from a small amount of practice at one boy’s home. I’d love to buy my own guitar one day; I know they have a few in the orchestra room.

I listened for a little while before someone began humming. At first, I thought it was Agatha, with how soft it was I could barely tell that it was too deep to be her. Then the humming turned into words.

“If I could begin to be half of what you think of me, I could do about anything, I could even learn how to love…”  
The words took me by surprise. Baz’s voice was still so soft, but so unmistakably his own. There was a hint of a vibrato at the end of the longer words. He sounded wistfully lost in his own mind.

_“When I see the way you look, shaken by how long it took, I could do about anything, I could even learn how to love, like you…”_

The singing stopped for a second. I just listened to the background music. I tried to shake myself back into reality. What was I doing? Right. Spying. I had to be gathering information to make sure Baz wasn’t planning anything malicious.

I peered into the room. I could see Agatha was sneaking a quick look at Baz. My heart dropped for a second, and I looked at Baz to see if he was returning the look. He wasn’t. He was staring off into space wistfully while he played, and smiling. Part of me didn’t even know he could smile. Well, of course he could, but...nicely. He smiled like he was happy, and not like he was planning something despicable.

Suddenly, the music became more dramatic. _“I always thought I might be bad, well i’m sure that it’s true, cause I think you’re so good, and i’m nothing like you. Look at you go, I just adore you I wish that I knew,”_ Baz sang, voice leaking emotion. I watched as his expression and tone became slightly more strained.

 _“What makes you think i’m so special…”_ The music dropped with the mood. At this moment in time, I was absolutely enraptured. I forgot what i was even supposed to be doing. I just watched Baz as he sang.

 _“If i could, begin to do, something that does right by you,”_ the song stayed slow, and bittersweet. _“I could do about anything, I could even learn how to love.”_

The music paused a second, and Baz looked in my direction. I shrunk back as I did, hiding from his line of sight. I didn’t know for sure if he was a vampire, but he very well could be. Which could mean anything. Maybe he could see me in the darkness. Maybe he could smell me.

I felt a weird burst of emotion. Maybe from still being captured by Baz’s sound. I was afraid of him, intimidated by him, but I still wanted to listen. Luckily, I don’t think Baz saw me, because the music resumed.

 _“When I see the way you act, wondering when i’m coming back, I could do about anything, I could even learn how to love, like you.”_ His voice tapered off. He didn’t sing for the rest of the song.

Soon, the music stopped, and I heard Agatha speaking. Something about how well Baz did. I couldn’t help but agree.

I stuck around a while longer, watching both of them leave. I was still a tad stunned by the music. After they were both gone, I left, running to get to my room before Baz did.

 

BAZ

_“If i could begin to do something that does right by you, I could do about anything, I could even learn how to love.”_

My eyes were drawn to the corner of the room, by the door. A single dot of light. Like a reflection. It drew back, and I could have sworn it was a ghost, it happened so quick. Maybe someone was listening. But I couldn’t stop now, If it was nothing, Agatha would see how nervous I am right now. And because we got no trouble for the rest of the song, I had assumed it was a mouse.

_“When I see the way you act, wondering when i’m coming back, i could do about anything, I could even learn how to love like you.”_

There were more lyrics, but they were a tad repetitive at the end. I was running out of ideas. The song wasn’t perfect. Still, Agatha kept playing, and she slowed down, letting the second to last note hand a bit at the end.

The two of us stayed still as the last note echoed through the room, savouring the ending. Agatha stood up. “That song was lovely, Baz,” she told me. “If you’d like we could do this again?”

I nodded my head stiffly. “I may write another,” i mentioned casually, “there was so much I wanted to say in this song that I couldn’t.” I squared my shoulders, trying not to sound as poetic or wistful as I felt. “But don’t get your hopes up.”

She smiled at me kindly. It only occured to me now that something else was behind her smile. I felt awkward. “Alright. I still hope you’ll write another. This was really fun.”  
We left walking side by side. I felt a little nervous, so I speed walked ahead of her. She didn’t seem to mind. I completely forgot to check the hall for any mice i may have seen. When we were outside of the building, we had to part ways. It was quick, and casual.

As I reached the mummers house, I saw Simon running toward it. Once he saw me staring at him, he stopped. His breathing was fast. “Baz!” he said, nervously. “What are you doing out so late?”

“I could ask the same of you,” I mentioned. I could feel him shaking from here. He was definitely up to something. “I was hanging out with Penny,” he said. His voice shook a bit on her name. He was hiding something.

“You were with Penelope?” I asked. My voice sounded more venomous than I intended, but it felt like a stab in the side. I suppose I was right. Maybe him and Penelope were getting somewhere with each other. I shouldn’t intrude.

It still hurt.

It hurt even more when Simon grinned like his life had just been saved. “Yeah, we had a great time!” He was still putting up a front. I’m sure their time was great, alright.

I opened the door. “Are you coming? Or do you want to stay out in the cold all night?”

Simon walked towards me. “You know the answer to that, you git.” He shoved me as he walked through the door, but the aura wasn’t hostile. It felt like a friendly shove. And he was smiling at me. Smiling like I really meant something.

Maybe it was just my imagination, or maybe he was just smiling about Penelope, but my knees still weakened when I thought about it.

SIMON

I saw Baz at the mummer’s house as I ran. I paused, looking for somewhere to hide until he went in. But when I looked back at him, he was staring right at me. His gaze was almost animalistic. Like he was looking at a piece of meat instead of a person.

He was suspicious of me.

I wonder if that’s how I looked when I was suspicious of him.

“Baz!” I called, trying to play dumb. “What are you doing out so late?”

He looked me up and down, examining me for clues. “I could ask the same of you,” he said. His voice wasn’t angry, but I couldn’t be too careful. I thought up an excuse.  
“I was hanging out with Penny,” I stammered. I wrung my hands, hoping he couldn't tell it was a lie. I’m still not entirely sure he didn’t see me in the hall, and just decided to kill me for it later or something like that.

“You were with Penelope?” He said, sneering. I panicked a bit. He knew, didn’t he? He knew, and he’d take this chance to get me before the anathema barred him from violent options.

But I tried to tell myself otherwise. Before tonight, Baz was a sinister know it all who was going to kill the entire school in my eyes. But now, he...well, he was still all of those things, a little. But he was musical. He felt things. Things he expressed in beautiful ways.

I guess part of me felt bad shaming him, knowing he was as human as I was in some ways.

“Yeah, we had a great time!” I fibbed. And I could tell he knew. But he didn’t push the topic any further. He opened the door for me, gesturing for me to enter. “Are you coming? Or do you want to stay in the cold all night?”

It was sarcastic, but not cold. It felt kind of like a joke. A joke between friends.

Whatever kept Baz from killing me for eavesdropping on his jam session he specifically said I couldn’t come to.

I walked towards him, still smiling. I was trying my very best to be friendly. “You know the answer to that, you git.” I shoved him, but not roughly. I hoped it came off as playful, and when I looked back, he was smiling a little. I don’t know if he thought I could see, but I could.

I felt warm. Like I hadn’t felt around anyone before.

I dismissed the feeling as exhaustion from a long night. Merlin, I needed some sleep.

When Baz and I got back to our room, we got ready for bed separately. We didn’t talk at all, but the air was docile. I didn’t mind it. I liked it better than the usual hostile aura that surrounded our dorm. The silence was fairly awkward, though.

We were already laying in bed, the both of us, when Baz started speaking.

“So you were hanging out with Penelope tonight?”

Fuck. I didn’t think he was still suspicious. “Ah, yeah. We were just studying,” i thought of another excuse. He didn’t seem to buy it. He eyed me wearily, suspicious. and upset. He didn’t seem angry, though. Maybe he just really didn’t want me at the jam session. I guess it was personal to him. I felt bad. Almost bad enough to warrant telling him the truth and apologizing. Almost. But not quite.

And then he said, “Just studying?” Implying it could be anything else. Maybe he thought Penny was with me. I wouldn’t let him think that.

“Just studying,” I said. “In the library.”

“The library?” He echoed, slowly. “You were running from the direction of the cloisters.”

What was he suggesting? “I can’t even go in the cloisters, Baz. Why would I be in the cloisters anyway?”

Baz looked away. “I’m not…” she stammered. Wow. I’ve never seen him nervous. He even tried laughing it off. “I’m just saying, since you and Agatha broke it off, you and Penelope have gotten kind of...close?”

Was he seriously implying that penny and I…? He had to be. His tone was so lightly suggestive. I shook my head. “No, no!” I laughed off the tension. “We just studied. I don’t...I don’t like Pen like that,” I said. But Baz wasn’t having it. “Oh, no,” he said with an attitude. “You two just depend on each other for everything and study together, just the two of you.”

I wouldn’t even think of dating Penelope! Baz was right out of his mind. “Well,” I countered, “You’re the one who’s sneaking off to sing songs with Agatha, you know, just the two of you,” I said, mocking his tone.

I didn’t realize my mistake until it was too late. “How do you know about that?” He said. His gaze turned cold, and all of the air was sucked out of the room. I almost let a quiet ‘oh’ slip out of my mouth. “Penny told me,” I said. “She said…” I took the time to do what I was planning to do anyway. Confront Baz. “She sad Agatha just wouldn’t stop talking about it. Like it was something special. Like it was a date,” I said.

There went the domestic aura, right out of the window, along with all of the air.

  
Baz sat up. “It was not a date. I would not stoop so low as to date someone who’s been within five feet of you, Snow.” He sneered at me.

  
“Oh, yeah?” I said, sitting up too to face him. “Cause what I think is happening, is that you decided this was the perfect way to mess with me.” I gripped the sides of the bed. “You could’ve picked absolutely anyone else to play with you, and you picked Agatha. You could have picked one of your cronies.”

  
“Dev and Niall can’t play for shit,” Baz fired back.

  
“Penelope?” I suggested.

  
“Does she play piano?” Baz interjected. Then, he tilted his head in defiance. “And on that note, is she generally pleasant for me to be around?”

  
“Oh, what, and Agatha is?”

  
“Yeah,” Baz said, “More so than Penelope. She can’t stand being around me most days, but at least Agatha is polite.”

  
“What about me?” I said. I don’t know why I did. I couldn’t even play the piano. Agatha tried teaching me, and it sounded like I was playing a dead rat. I played guitar for a few years, but it’s not like I had a guitar at Watford.

  
But Baz didn’t seem to get any of that. He just looked taken aback that I even offered.

  
Not that it was an offer. It might have been. I didn’t know yet.

  
“What, like you would want to come?” Baz scoffed. I nodded. “Yeah, sure,” I said. “I love music. I wanna hear what you’re writing.” Baz looked suspicious still. “You? You want to hear my music? Not like...to make fun of it? Just because you’re...curious?”

“I am,” I said. I wasn’t. I knew what he sounded like. I just wanted to hear more. And make sure he wasn’t up to no good, of course.  
BAZ

“I am,” he said calmly. I wanted to say he was lying, that this was another ploy to get under my skin and prove i was some kind of monster, but his tone was genuine. The corners of his lips pulled up just a little as if he were imagining the situation now. I was too.

I could imagine Simon looking at me as I sang, and anything could happen from there. He could taunt me. Call the words I wrote just for him garbage. Tell me the chord progression was weak and the metaphors were obvious, horribly obvious.

But could he admire me, too?

Could he look at me as I sang and see someone worth talking to? Would my words convince him that I loved him? Did he even know all of this was for him? It was doubtful, but I wanted to hope.

“Well,” I said, “if you really want to sit and do nothing while we play, you may, but Agatha is the only good piano player I know who would bother playing with me.”  
Simon seemed pleased. “Wonderful,” he said, “let me know when you plan on meeting up again.”

I shifted in my bed uncomfortably. “I have some extra songs I talked to Agatha about performing. I haven’t transcribed them yet.” Simon didn’t move. “I could help,” he said. “I know nothing about music theory, but I do know what good music sounds like.”

That made me laugh. I couldn’t help myself. “Sure you do, Snow.” I turned over in my bed. “Sure you do.”

Simon was silent for some time. Almost like he wanted to say something. But he didn’t. After a few agonizing minutes of him just watching me (thought I shouldn’t judge- it’s something i’ve done many times), I heard his bed croak under the weight of him shifting. “Night, Baz.”

I didn’t say anything, just drifted off into a dreamless sleep.


	3. Encore

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We've got a spy in the inside. Simon's breaking out guitar and his best listening ears. He catches a piece of information that is neither unwelcome, nor expected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> dhgjsghlhgerghs I was writing (i think chapter 4 or 5 maybe) and I accidentally made simon SUCH A TOP im sorry. In this tho he's just simon, clueless simon, not yet dom snow  
> Things to note here: I changed some of the lyrics to the song in this chapter because Baz is a posh british kid and definitely wouldn't say "Mama" or "Daddy" (also im not making him say daddy, fuck you)

**SIMON**

 

When I woke the next morning, I saw Baz, completely ready for the day, sitting at his desk and writing. I sat up, aware of the darkness of the room. When had I woken up?

Oh. The curtain was pulled on the window. No wonder. I reached up to pull them open, and I swear i could hear Baz hiss at the light. “Morning, Snow.” he groaned. 

“What time is it?” I asked. Baz must have heard the nerves plaguing my voice, because he answered, “Relax. It’s a good thirty minutes before we have to go anywhere.” I hummed in acknowledgment. I got up, and got ready for the day.

Once I was properly dressed, my teeth brushed and everything, I walked up to Baz, still running a brush through my hair. “What’chya writing?” I said.

He reached up to cover the words. “Song,” he answered, disinterested. He crouched in his seat to keep me from reading the lyrics, but I could make out a few. 

“The only exception?” I said. His back hunched even more. “Hey, that’s personal!” he said. I chuckled, walking back to the mirror. “Yeah, but i’m gonna hear it eventually.” That made Baz freeze up. The last scratch of pen on the paper was louder than the others as he lifted it, quickly and sharply. “Right,” he murmured.

“You forgot about that?”

“I might’ve,” he said. “If I remembered, I wouldn’t have made it so…”

“What?” I asked. “What’s it about?”

He had a very faint trace of red dusting his cheeks. “It’s a...song about love, I guess?” I laughed. “Aww, did you make it too cheesy?” He groaned at me. “No. Maybe.”

“Is it graphic?” I said, trying to sound suggestive.

“No!” he exclaimed. “Goodness, Snow, stop with that!” I chuckled. I was going to keep poking fun at it, but Baz looked kind of sad. Not sad like a pouting lip and watery eyes. Empty sad, like you didn’t have anything  _ to _ feel.

“I might have made it a little too personal. Maybe a little depressing. I guess i’m like that.”

“Dramatic?” I said trying to lighten the mood. And it worked. Baz chuckled. “Yeah,” he said, “Crowley, I only realized now how dramatic I wrote this song. And pessimistic.”

“Sounds just like you,” I joked.

 

**BAZ**

 

I tossed a book at him. He dodged it, artfully. I like this a lot. This weird middle ground between enemies and friends. I like being able to throw a book at Simon and have him not hate me.

Simon picked up the book and tossed it back to me. I caught it in one hand, my hand pushing backwards to account for the movement. I set the book down and picked up my papers. Slipping them into my bag, I stood up and put on my bag. “We’ll be in the orchestra room at 19:00 or earlier. Don’t be late.” 

I walked out of the room to head to the breakfast hall. 

 

**SIMON**

 

Once I got down to the breakfast hall, I spotted Baz and Agatha sitting together and talking about a new piece of music. Or maybe, about something else. Whatever it was, I decided to slip into the conversation lightly.

I did so by slamming my tray down on the table a little louder than I meant to.

“Oh, sorry!” I said, looking at Baz. “Didn’t mean to be that loud.” I sat down in the seat closest to him. “What’s up guys?”

“Simon?” Agatha crossed her arms and leaned against the table, smiling amiably. “What brings you here?”

“Baz invited me to the next jam session.”

“Hey now,” Baz said. “It’s not really a  _ jam session _ if I can’t transpose these chords for piano. It’s harder than it looks.” He was stressing over a couple pages of sheet music. 

I looked over at the sheet music. It was a messy scribble of noise. Baz has ink smudges on his hands, and even one on his face. Merlin, I didn’t think writing music was that hard. 

I put my hand on the edge of the music, instead of asking Baz if I could look at it. He just glared at me and lifted his hands from the paper so I could take it. 

“This is a love song, right baz?”

“Yeah…” his voice dragged out in suspicion. Or maybe it was supposed to be attitude. I couldn’t tell, so I just continued. “So...I don’t know anything about music, other than like...playing guitar for a few years,  but what if this….?” I pointed to a big of the page with “Bmin7” written under it. “What if this was a B  _ Major _ ?” I tried.

Baz looked at me like i’d grown an extra head. “B major?” He grabbed the papers back. I heard him humming to himself. “Not that either, but it’s closer. What about…”

Baz scribbled down on the paper. I turned to Agatha to shoot her a look of confusion, but she gave one right back to me as well. “Yeah,” Baz said. “I like C major better. Look at you, Snow,” he said, shoving me lightly with his elbow. “You actually did something useful for once.”

“Baz!” Agatha whined, but it came out with a laugh. “Don’t be mean.”

“Hate to break it to you Agatha,” he mused, “But I  _ am _ mean.”

Something about the interaction made me a bit mad, but I tried to brush it off.

 

The three of us were to meet up in the orchestra room at 19:00 (just like the last time), but I wanted to come early. I was hoping to be earlier than everyone else, but (not to my surprise) Baz showed up before me.

When I entered the room, he had a guitar and a pick in his hands. “Snow,” he greeted, “I heard you could play the guitar?”

I looked at him like I was asking if he knew how crazy he sounded. “You can’t just pull out a guitar and expect me to play a song i’ve never played before, Baz.” He just held the guitar out to me and handed me the pick. “Nonsense, Snow. This song is easy and repetitive enough. You’ll get it in no time.”

I held the guitar in my hands. Baz tapped my shoulder. “Sit on the floor,” he said. And I did. He gave me a bit of sheet music, and I ran my fingers over the strings to match the chords. I gave the guitar a few experimental strums, and it took me a while, but I got it. I looked up when I heard a violin note. I tried to get Baz’s eye while he was playing, but he was staring off into space. 

I practiced my part for a little bit before Agatha came in, shoes clicking on the floor. “Hello boys,” she said, setting down her own sheet music that Baz probably gave her during class. “Let’s play a bit?” She looked at me, and at Baz, smiling at us both, but she lingered on Baz with her eyes.

“Yeah,” I said, interrupting their...whatever this is. “Let’s play a bit, Baz.”

“Are you going to sing, Baz? Like last time?” Agatha asked. I noticed Baz’s eyes shift in my direction for a second. He must have hunted earlier because I could tell he was blushing. 

I kept feigning ignorance. “Baz, you  _ sing? _ ” I couldn’t resist the urge to pick on him a little bit, even though I knew how good he sounded.

Baz groaned. “Yeah, a little, but tell anyone and i’ll kill you. Both of you.”

“Simon,” Agatha said, wonder in her eyes, “Baz is such a lovely singer. You  _ have _ to hear it!” I wish I could tell her I already have, but instead I just grimace at how absolutely enraptured she seems by the idea of Baz singing. “Yeah,” I said, glaring at Baz. “I’m sure he is”

Baz glared back at me.

He grabbed my shoulder and pulled me to where I was sitting on the floor. “Alright,” he said, “Let’s get playing.” Agatha took the hint, and sat down at the piano. I didn’t like how I felt jealous in this situation. I tried not to think about it.

“Simon?” Baz motioned to me. “You’re starting.”

I jumped a bit where I sat. “Right,” I said, nervous. I had never performed in front of anyone else before. I took a deep breath, tuned the guitar for a second, and began playing.

After a few measures, Agatha jumped in on piano, and Baz followed a few seconds later. We played for a few more moments, and I kept my eyes on Baz while he played. I saw him take a deep breath, preparing to sing.

“ _ When I was younger I saw my father cry and curse at the wind,” _ he sang. And I feigned amazement. He opened his eyes to gaze at me, and saw me watching him back. He quickly shut his eyes again. “ _ He broke his own heart and I watched as he tried to reassemble it.” _

Merlin, he wasn’t kidding when he said this song was personal. The whole room felt stuffy with angst. He kept going. “ _ And my mother swore that she would never let herself forget, and that was the day that I promised I’d never sing of love if it does not exist.” _ This was pretty different from his first song.

Then, his expression softened. His eyes still closed, it looked like he was dreaming. “ _ Well darling, You are the only exception, You are the only exception, You are the only exception, You are the only exception. _ ”

I had always thought of Baz as someone who told people love was a chemical reaction, and nothing more. Mostly because he literally said that to me one time. But listening to him sing now made me really think he was in love. I didn’t know if I was  _ happy _ about it. I didn’t know who he...liked. 

“ _ Maybe I know somewhere deep in my soul that love never lasts,”  _ he sang, right back to being pessimistic. I tried to focus on guitar instead of his voice.  _ “And we’ve got to find other ways to make it alone, or keep a straight face.” _

I couldn’t help looking up to watch his expressions. Every once in a while, he would open his eyes to watch me watch him. He always closed his eyes as soon as he saw me. I don’t know why he opened his eyes anymore, if he would just close them when I looked.

_ “And I’ve always lived like this, keeping it comfortable from a distance. _ ” His face changed with the mood of the song. I tried not to think about how when he reached for the high notes, his eyes shut tighter.

_ “And up until know I had sworn to myself that i’m content with loneliness…” _ I looked back at my paper, and the notes were about to change from their normal repeated phrase. I panicked a little, but got the hang of it.

“ _ Because none of it was ever worth the risk, but You are the only exception, You are the only exception, You are the only exception, You are the only exception…” _

Baz stopped singing, and didn’t sing again for some time. He kept playing the violin. I looked up at Baz, and his eyes met mine again. This time, he didn’t close his eyes. He just kept staring. The whole time I felt vulnerable.

I was the first one to pull away, and I tried not to think about it.

Baz began singing again.  _ ”I’ve got a tight grip on reality but I can’t let go of what’s in front of me here.” _ His voice was louder than before. More intense. I risked a momentary glance. His eyes were shut again. I looked back at my music.  _ “I know you’re leaving in the morning when you wake up, leave me with some kind of proof it’s not a dream.” _

There was a momentary pause in the music. The sound of the guitar, piano, and violin all echoed in the room. It was so incredibly satisfying. Baz began to sing again. I realized I was the only one playing. Agatha was looking at me. I guess there was a little guitar solo in this. 

_ “You are the only exception, You are the only exception, You are the only exception, You are the only exception.” _ Agatha picked up again halfway through the lyric. The music grew in intensity. Baz repeated the chorus again.  _ “You are the only exception, You are the only exception, You are the only exception, You are the only exception.” _

I wasn’t even thinking about Agatha or Baz or anything anymore; just how good we sounded.  _ “And i’m on my way to believing.” _ I took a chance looking up at Agatha. She was looking at Baz. I switched to Baz, wondering if they were keeping each other’s gaze, but Baz’s eyes were closed.

_ “Oh, and I’m on my way to believing.” _ We each played our last note, and held it, letting it escape into the air and fade into nothing. 

I looked at Agatha and back to Baz. We were all just looking at each other, unable to say anything. I decided to break the silence first. 

“Holy crow,” I said, still amazed. “That sounded  _ fantastic.” _

Agatha chuckled. “I know!” She stood up. “That bit after the second chorus-” she started, and I cut her off.

“Yeah yeah, where the music got all like, intense?” I was grinning like a mad man. I looked at baz, and he was looking at me with an unreadable expression. I coughed. “It was nice. It was...fun, actually.” I looked away. I still felt Baz staring at me.

“I can’t believe you actually liked it, Snow,” he said. His voice wasn’t as full of malice as I thought it would be. More so disbelief. I tried to stay modest. “Yeah, it was uh...so-so,” I said, shaking my hand.

Agatha was already packing up. “Simon, you should head on. I want to talk to Baz.”

 

**BAZ**

 

I knew that wouldn’t settle well with Simon as soon as she said it. I could feel the magic radiating off of him in stubborn and defensive waves. He was so easily readable, I was almost sure Agatha could feel it too. 

“It’s fine,” he said, trying to cover up how mad he was as if we couldn’t smell it in the air. “I gotta walk Baz back to our dorm anyway.”

“Don’t be stupid, Snow,” I said, grinning mostly to piss him off. “I know my way back. You go on ahead; I wanted to talk to Agatha about another song that’s a bit more difficult on piano, anyway.”

I could physically feel his displeasure in hot waves of electric magic, and I could see it in how he glared daggers at me. “Fine,” he said, and gathered his things. He left the room, and shut the door behind him, but not quite all the way.

God, he was stalking again, wasn’t he?

Well, might as well give him what he wants.

Agatha stepped a bit closer. “What was it you wanted to say, about piano?” she said. I waved my hand to dismiss the concern. “It’s fine,” I said, “I mostly just wanted Simon to leave. I haven’t even gotten the next song transposed. I won’t even think about it until tomorrow, probably.”

Agatha grinned back at me. “What did you want to say?” I asked her, holding my hand out. She nodded to herself. “Baz,” she sighed, “I know you said you didn’t want to say who you were writing all these songs for, but I’d like to know. I’d like to know…” she trailed off.

“I don’t think you’d be interested in the answer,” I warned her in a sing song voice. I already knew where this was going.

“I do,” she confided. “And I wanted to know if, perhaps…” she held her hands behind her back. “If they were about...me?”

I looked at her calmly. “What gave you the notion?” I asked, keeping my face calm. Not turning her down. Stretching the moment out. Trying to rile up Snow as much as I could. It was working. I could feel the heat of his anger bouncing off of him from the hall. 

“Just that...you said before,” she explained, “on the first day. It was an us jam. Baz, did you write that song for me?” She looked hopeful. I felt kind of bad doing this, but it had to be done. 

“Agatha, i’m afraid to say that it wasn’t.” Her face fell. “I guess you could say you aren’t...my type?”

She looked hurt. I really did feel bad- I knew how it was to like someone who could never like you back. “But...but, who is your type?” she stuttered. 

I grinned. “Boys.”

 

**SIMON**

 

“Baz,” Agatha sighed, “I know you said you didn’t want to say who you were writing all these songs for, but I’d like to know. I’d like to know…” she trailed off. I felt almost sick to my stomach. Everything was unfolding in front of me, and I couldn’t do anything but watch. I felt the need to leave.

“I don’t think you’d be interested in the answer,” Baz said. His voice lilted a little, singing the words. That tosser didn’t know what he was doing to me.

“I do,” she confided.  _ She did.  _ “And I wanted to know if, perhaps…” she held her tongue. I prayed to every god that may or may not exist that she wouldn’t say what I thought she would say. 

“If they were about...me?” Every god that may or may not exist sucks. Count me an atheist.

“What gave you the notion?” Baz replied, face calm. I couldn't read any of the emotions he was feeling, and it made me angry. My blood felt like it was boiling. A few sparks fell from my fingertips. If I didn’t handle myself soon, i’d go off.

“Just that...you said before,” she said, and her voice was still full of admiration. “On the first day. It was an us jam. Baz, did you write that song for me?” 

“Agatha,” baz began, and I stepped away from the door just in case I went off. I grabbed my things and got ready to bolt. 

“I’m afraid to say that it wasn’t. I guess you could say you aren’t...my type?”

Now I knew Baz was lying. Agatha was everyone’s type. He must be completely mad. I heard Agatha’s reply; it was pained. I did feel bad for her, but I really felt bad that it was about Baz. “But...but, who is your type?”

Yeah, what  _ was _ Baz’s type if not Agatha? Maybe he only went for people who were evil. I bet that would be the case. 

“Boys.”

...What?

At that, I looked back into the room. Agatha was about as surprised as me. My magic wasn’t quite as powerful, but it still rippled under the skin. 

“Boys?” She asked, incredulous. “You’re…” 

“Gay?” Baz finished. He didn’t seemed phased one bit. “I guess so, yep. Women just aren’t my cup of tea.” He was gathering his things. Agatha still stood in place. “The songs are about a boy?” She had to ask again. Baz looked up. “Well I should sure hope so, Agatha, considering i’m gay.”

I took the moment to leave the hall before Baz could catch up to me. Once I was far enough away, to the point where I was certain they couldn’t hear me anymore, I sprinted to our dorm room. 

Why was I so bothered by Baz being gay?

I knew I wasn’t homophobic. I didn’t care that Trixie and Kris were together; I thought they were a cute couple, despite Penny’s complaining. Maybe it was because Baz was kind of living with me?

Maybe that’s what made it weird. Like, living with someone you knew could like you. But I dismissed that thought, because Baz couldn’t like me, even if he was gay. He hated me.  _ I _ hated  _ him _ . I was still bothered by the idea.

Why would I be bothered by the idea of Baz liking me when I knew he didnt?

I wasn’t bothered. 

...Was that a bad thing? Should I be bothered? I didn’t know what to think. I didn’t know what I was feeling. 

I tried not to think about it. 

 

Baz arrived at our dorm two minutes after I did. He didn’t speak to me. Maybe that was for the best. We both got ready for bed separately, and did our best to ignore each other. He was just as tense at I was. I could  _ tell. _ He was letting more things slip around me.

My earlier thoughts kept biting back at me.  _ He hates me _ , I assured myself,  _ And i'm not gay. _

Right?

_ Woah _ . Did I really need to be thinking about that right now?

Baz was already in bed. My head wouldn’t let me sleep. My magic was prickling in my veins, and making me overheat. I felt feverish. I had to ask him.

“Baz,” I said, testing to see if I had his attention.

“Crowley, Snow, haven’t we talked enough today?” he rolled over, glaring at me. “What could you possibly want?”

“Who did you write those songs for?”

Baz laughed at me. “Like i’d tell you.” He sounded pretty confidently antagonizing.

So I tried not to think about it.

 

**BAZ**

 

Maybe letting Simon hear I was gay wasn’t the smartest idea. I just wanted him to stop thinking of me as a threat to his precious ex, or whatever. He has no idea that I know he knows, so when I entered our dorm, he didn’t mention it. The room was tense, and I wish I had a clue to what he was thinking. 

I just tried to ignore him and get ready for bed. No matter how much I felt like crying.

We were both in bed, and I was wide awake. I tried to will myself to sleep, but it wasn’t working. I heard Simon tossing and turning behind me, and under the assumption he was just a fitful sleeper (this was true- it was cliche, but sometimes when I couldn’t sleep, i’d watch him sleep until I felt better), I let him be. 

Then he stilled, and spoke to me, clearly loud and awake. “Baz,” he called. Nothing else. I waited for a few moments before replying. 

“Crowley, Snow, haven’t we talked enough today? What could you possibly want?” I turned around to look at him, hoping the sleeplessness in my own voice wasn’t too apparent. 

“Who did you write those songs for?”

I froze up. There was a tiny voice in my mind telling me to admit it, that all the songs I wrote and have written have been about him (Yes, even those cheesy ones from 4th year where I was still convinced I hated him) (Just a bloke hating another bloke, writing songs about him and how much I hated his stupid hair and stupid voice).

Luckily, the rest of my mind was completely rational, and knew the chances of professing my love, having it accepted and singing kumbaya would be slim. So I laughed at him, mustering all of the attitude I could. “Like i’d tell you.”

I would want to tell him, but he doesn’t have to know that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope you enjoy ;^)  
> Today's chapter includes the song "The Only Exception" by paramore. Don't be afraid to leave song suggestions for music you think fits the boys!  
> Remember to leave kudos or comments, and i'll buy you a "goat".


	4. Ritardando

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things start to slow down after the group's piano player drops out (for personal reasons)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter:  
> Baz needs sleep  
> Simon gets sneakay™  
> Simon also almost dies  
> DFHJEGHEUI DSFS I WROTE A SONG FOR THIS AND I DONT EVEN KNOW LATINNNN  
> Penny knows hamilton apparently  
> Penny Finds Out™

**SIMON**

 

When I got up the next morning, it was still dark. I peered up at the window, and there was barely any light coming in. I usually didn’t wake up this early.

Something shuffled on the other side of the room. I sat in up my bed to see what was going on, but it was still pitch black. “Baz?” I asked, unsure if he was awake or not.

“What?” He replied from the other side of the room. So that’s what the noise was. My eyes were adjusting (slowly but surely) to the darkness, and I could see him sitting at his desk across the room. He was hunched over it, writing.

“Merlin, Baz,” I swore, “Why are you working at a time like this?

“You think I just get up at...the arse crack of dawn to write songs?” Baz countered. He sounded exhausted. Finally, it clicked. “Have you been up _all night?_ ”

He sat in guilty silence for a few seconds, not writing or moving. Barely breathing, really. When I finally got a response, it was hushed. “This song is important.”

I got up out of bed. “Baz,” I chastised, “You should sleep.”

He gave me a sour chuckle. “Right,” he said, “Like you care whether or not i’m sleeping.” I opened my mouth to argue, but he kept talking. “Besides, it’s two hours till breakfast. I won’t have time to get a decent amount of rest.”

“Two hours is better than nothing,” I pressure, standing behind him with my arms crossed like a disapproving parent. He lifts his head up and glares at me.

I take some time to look at the paper. I can’t see anything written on it. I point to it, and Baz’s whole head turns to follow my gaze, black hair twisting in the air. “Can I read that song?”

Baz covers the paper defensively. “It’s not ready yet,” he says. “I haven’t even got all the lyrics down.”

“I’d like to read what you’ve got.”

“The lyrics are in latin.”

“...Latin?” I repeat, to make sure I heard him right. He nods. Of fucking course, Baz being the smartass he is, would write a whole song in latin. “Well, I know some Latin- we both have the class together. You know that.”

He keeps staring at me, chewing his bottom lip. I wish I knew what he was thinking.

 

**BAZ**

 

I am _so glad_ Simon doesn’t know what i’m thinking. Mostly because this whole time, i’ve been thinking about how cute he looks when he’s tired, and I can’t quite get myself to stop.

Last night, when he asked me who the song was for, I almost told him. The thought of telling him was what kept me up. It’s what made me so suddenly inspired to write this song. After all, I needed something to do other than sleep.

I looked down at the paper. Some of the lyrics were in latin, the ones that described him directly. I didn’t know if it was to symbolize the fact that I couldn’t properly describe how much I did like him in the english language, or that he would never understand. But maybe I just wanted to show off, too.

I read over the words carefully in my head. _Did I really say “I love you” twice in the first verse?_ I think to myself. _He can never read this. He can never HEAR this._ I take the papers and I put them in my desk drawer. “I’ll go to bed and see how many hours I can get.”

I get up and push my chair in, shambling to my bed. I let myself fall face first onto the mattress with a loud _pomf_ noise, and I can hear a snicker from behind. I can’t stop myself from smiling at the fact that I made Simon laugh. Crowley, i’m weak.

“Don’t let me sleep in,” I murmur, clutching onto my blankets and dragging them on top of me. “Right, I won’t,” I hear Simon reply. The bed next to me creaks beneath Simon’s weight as he sits on it. I feel a little drowsy, but I can’t quite get myself to fall asleep. So I fake it; at least so Simon won’t bother me to go to sleep.

Then, just as I think I might fall asleep, I hear Simon shuffling out of bed.

**SIMON**

 

Just as i’m almost certain Baz is asleep, I try very quietly to get out of bed, so as not to wake him. I move with a slowness unmatched by any other in my life, and I pause and wait at every board creak, making sure i’m completely silent.

 

**BAZ**

 

Simon sucks at being stealthy.

He thinks he’s gone all ninja mode, but he hesitates on creaky wooden boards, and his big heavy feet make his lumbering around reverberate through the floor. I can _feel_ him walking. I don’t know if it’s because i’m a vampire, or just because Snow is genuinely horrible at sneaking. It could be both.

If ever I had the opportunity, i’d teach him how to sneak around like a pro. Though I still might be able to hear him, and my sneakiness comes from vampire instincts. And from generally being up to no good (my first 5 years).

 

**SIMON**

 

I pause at Baz’s desk, and I reach for the drawer handle. It’s not oiled properly, so it squeaks at first. I wince, and pause. Trying to draw it out slower only prolongs the squeaking noise. I try pulling faster, and this time, the squeak is brief, and quiet.

 

**BAZ**

 

I hear the unmistakable squeak of the wheels of my desk drawer, in desperate need of an oiling.

 _Is he rummaging through my drawer while i’m in the room?_ Figures. That’s something Simon would do. I don’t bother him. He won’t find anything incriminating.

 

**SIMON**

 

I pull out the notebook paper Baz was writing his song on, trying to get a better glimpse at it in the dark. Some light from the rising sun has gotten into the room, making the walls glow a dry pink. I can barely see the lyrics- they’re messy.

 _Te amo, vestra comas es sicut ignis._ I love you, your hair is like fire.

Yes, this must be the mysterious crush of Baz’s. I try to think of all the boys in Watford with red hair. Or, at least, warm hair.

 _Tu es ex hyacintho oculos pueri._ You are a hyacinth-eyed boy. I’ve got no idea what color hyacinths are.

 _Te amo, non possum id dice satis._ I love you, I can’t say it enough. Jeez, Baz is whipped. It makes my stomach turn a little bit, but I don’t want to think about why that is.

 _Deinde uno die, et morieris._ And one day, you will die. Well, that’s not threatening at all. I wonder what that’s supposed to mean. It’s not like Baz is gonna kill his crush.

Actually, that sounds like something Baz might do.

I keep reading. _Your ignus oculos_ (fire eyes) _bore holes into my soul. Your fumus_ (smoke) _blinds me and it suffocates this home. Do not approach, amice mea, ego incenderent_ (my love, i will burn). _Ego capere flammarum._ “I’m flammable.” the words come out in a small whisper. I’d almost forgotten Baz was asleep.

“What are you doing?”

 

**BAZ**

 

_Shit. The song!_

I forgot my song was in the drawer in my tired daze. Well, time to show Simon was _real_ sneaking is

I got up from my bed, moving my covers off of my body. I keep my stance spread wider (to distribute my weight evenly, keeping the boards from creaking) and I take long strides. It helps that i’m a vampire, and as creatures of the night, we’re good at movinging lightly.

Just as I creep up behind Simon, I hear him whisper “I’m flammable”. Shit. Well, he’s read the whole song now. Might as well give him a good scare.

“What are you doing?” I say, loud and quick, a hand grabbing his shoulder. I take joy in watching him spin around like a top, shut the desk drawer without putting the papers back, slip backwards, and fall back onto the desk, all in one swift motion.

He doesn’t say anything. He’s frightened out of his skin; if his skin were any paler, I might be paranoid that I turned him without touching him.

I reach down to grab his wrist, lifting up his arm in front of him, and the paper he carried with it. “Caught you red handed, hm?” I didn’t smile, or move my face at all, really. As much as I love Simon, I also love to scare him.

He tries to pull away, but I have a firm grip on his arm. If I squeeze any harder I might leave marks. I’d like the idea of him walking around with a handmark on his arm, letting everyone know he’s been snooping, but I don’t think about that (I reiterate; i’m disturbed. Ask anyone).

“So, I tell you I don’t want you reading _my_ song,” I said, reciting all his wrongdoings. “And your best course of action was to go into my _private_ desk drawer, and read my _private_ song without my permission?”

He looked at me like a guilty dog. I couldn’t help but smirk, but I really was mad at him.

“I just wanted to know what it said,” he mumbled, sour expression on his face. He was looking at the ground.

“You’re not entitled to know what all of my songs are, Snow.” At this point, my smirk turned into an angry grimace.

“Who was it about?” he asked quickly. I glared at him, letting my face drop. “Don’t change the subject,” I growl.

“What color is a hyacinth?”

 

**SIMON**

 

If I couldn’t change the subject, I could at least try to catch Baz off-guard.

“What color is a hyacinth?”

I watched his face contort in confusion. If he weren’t so tired, this might not have worked. “I...I dunno. Blue? Why does that matter?”

Red hair, blue eyes. I must have seen someone with red hair and blue eyes in watford before. At least someone in our grade. There’s a ton of 7th years here. Or maybe they’re an 8th year. I didn’t know many 8th year students here, so maybe that was it.

I dropped the papers in my hand, so they’d land on the floor. Baz let go of my wrist, and bent down to pick them up. I took the opportunity to run out of the room and out of the mummer’s house.

Once I was outside, I turned around to check if Baz was following me, pursuing me to inevitably kill me for looking at his things. To my surprise, he wasn’t, and the lights were on in the top of the tower, which means he must have not followed at all.

I sighed in relief. I just had to avoid him until he forgave me, or until the end of our lives. Whichever came first.

I decided to head to the breakfast hall _extremely_ early. At least there was one good thing to come of this:I’d get to have the freshest, warmest cherry scone. Straight out of the oven.

 

**BAZ**

 

I clutched at the papers Simon dropped. I let him go, and I heard him sprinting away from me. I looked up just as he slammed the door shut behind him. That’s alright; I was done scaring him anyway. There gets to be a point where it goes from fun to guilt-inducing. As long as he dropped the papers, that was fine by me.

I don’t know what he was thinking, snooping around in my desk while i’m in the room. He knows damn well i’m a freak of nature when it comes to my five senses, especially my hearing. Then again, Simon doesn’t think a lot.

Simon must know by now, though. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out that the only person I hang out with who’s copper hair glows like fire, and who’s blue eyes remind me of hyacinths is Simon. Who am I kidding? Simon must have figured it out the moment he read it. Simon is dumber than a bag of hammers, but he’s not completely braindead.

I turn on the lights and begin to get ready for the day. No use in wasting my morning trying to sleep when the one person who was going to make sure I didn’t stay unconscious for half the day is already gone.

I find that it takes me longer than I expected, but there’s still a good half hour before breakfast begins, so I take to writing more of a song i’ve been working on before. It’s (unsurprisingly) another song about Simon, but I wrote it in 5th year. That was the year where, if there ever was any hope of me ever having a chance with Simon Snow, it was bludgeoned to death with a rusty pole.

I remember it clearly, but I don’t want to dwell on it. Simon had caught me emptying out a rat like a juice box in the catacombs (honestly, rat blood would be safer to consume than a juice box anyway. At least, the cheap ones.) When he returned, there was a golden necklace with a little golden crossing making its home on his neck.

It made me feel like more of a monster than I normally was. I can see why Simon felt like he needed it, but it still hurt. That’s when my songwriting was still kind of...edgy? The chord progression is dramatic at best, and downright depressing at worst.

I don’t know if it was supposed to be comforting or what, but the lyrics are kind of upsetting to me, so i’ve been trying to fix them a little. I came back to it a year after being previously written and finally professionally transposed it to piano and violin. I wonder if Agatha would still want to play it with me, considering i’m 80% certain the only reason she played piano with me before it because she wanted me to ask her out or something.

I doubt it. I’d always imagined me singing this to Simon one day, but i’m sure he’d turn the message around completely. I could hear his voice in my head now.

_My teeth may be sharp, and i’ve been raised to kill? So you ARE a vampire!_

Alister fucking Crowley.

 

**PENELOPE**

 

When I got to the breakfast table, Simon was already sitting there, more food than usual. He was eating fast, which usually meant he was stressed.

I sat down across from him. “Hey, Simon,” I greeted. He nodded back. I let him swallow the food in his mouth so he could speak. “Hey, Penny! Sorry I didn’t sit with you yesterday.”

“Yeah, why was that?” I asked. He’s gone right back to eating, so I have to wait _again_ for him to finish. Usually, i’m the one carrying the conversations between us, unless it’s about Baz, so he probably isn’t used to not eating.

He swallows his food and continues. “I was sitting with Baz and Agatha.”

“Ooh, we have a spy on the inside,” I teased. “Tell me _everything_ you’ve learned.” It was mostly sarcastic, but a part of me was dying, not being let in on all the action.

“Christ, Pen,” swore Simon (he only swore like a normal when he was REALLY stressed). “It’s all over the place.”

He explained to me how after he spied on them, he figured out the love song wasn’t obviously ABOUT anyone, and nothing romantic happened, but he _did_ decide to note that “for a guy who grimaces like he’s constantly surrounded by the smell of mustard gas, Baz has an excellent voice”.

Then he explained how he confronted Baz, and Baz invited him to the next jam session to play guitar, and that’s why he wasn’t sitting at our usual table. He was congregating with Agatha and Baz about the piece of music Baz was writing.

“Well there you go,” I said. “I told you it wasn’t romantic; he let you join in, so it wasn’t just Ag and Baz.”

Simon laughed nervously. “No, yeah, I know he’s not into Agatha for a _fact_ now.” I tilted my head curiously. Simon _never_ admitted he was wrong about Baz unless he was 100%, show-stoppingly wrong about him. “Oh, yeah? How did you figure that out?”

Simon swallowed. “Agatha...she asked him out.”

Oh shit. “And Baz refused?” I asked, trying to get Simon’s mind away from that.

“Oh, yeah, he did. Said she wasn’t his _type._ You know what he told her his type was?” he said, probably trying to sound like he had some juicy gossip.

I decided to give in to his delusions, leaning forward like I was just dying to know (let’s ignore the fact that I really am dying to know).

“Boys.”

I almost rebounded with the force at which that information slapped me in the face. I don’t know what I expected, but it really wasn’t _that._ “Oh,” I said, jaw hanging ajar. “Wow. So what are you doing with that information?”

“I don’t know,” Simon admitted, “But I caught a glimpse of a work in progress song he was writing this morning, and he actually _described_ what this guy looked like, so i’m trying to figure it out.”

I was invested in his excitement over this new scandal, so I tried not to remind him that this guy Baz is describing in the song might not be an actual person, but just a poetic ‘someone’. “The song said,” Simon continued, “That the boy had hair like fire, and eyes like hyacinths- which i’ve been told are blue, whatever they are. There’s also a lot of talk about fire, like _fire eyes_ and _smoke_ , and all that.”

Simon looked up at me with his blue eyes and copper hair that shined in the light like fire, and his magic was leaking out from something (probably distress) -- It smelled like smoke. “So,” he said, “who do you think it is?”

I know Simon is stupid, but he can’t be _this_ stupid, can he?

“You wanna know who that is?” I ask, sarcastically. “Oh, brother. I have absolutely no idea. I’m… completely stumped.”

Simon’s face screws up in annoyance. “Penny, you’re only “completely stumped” when the answer is obvious and i’m not getting it.”

I look at him with a wide smile that comes across like more of a grimace. He _is_ that stupid. “Simon, you can’t be serious. You can’t think of anyone in the school who has auburn hair and blue eyes?”

“Since when did it become auburn?”

“Since I realized exactly who Baz is talking about,” I retort.

Simon’s eyes light up in excitement. “Tell me!” he exclaims. I smirk, and he keeps looking at me like i'm holding a scone over his head. “I’m not telling you,” I said, grabbing the edges of my tray.

I can feel Simon’s sparks from here, so before he argues, I cut him off. “But,” I say, shutting him up immediately, “I have a question for you.” Simon stays silent for a few seconds before biting off half of his scone ( _Half._ Merlin.) and letting out a quick “Yesh?”

I have the urge to ask him if his mouth had to be full for this, but I refrain. “What’s your plan?”

He stops chewing for a second in confusion. “Huh??”

“When you find out who Baz is crushing on, what’s your plan?”

Simon continued chewing in contemplation. He swallowed. “I don’t know. I’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.” I folded my arms. “I’m just trying to make sure you aren’t gonna try and ruin it.”

Simon looked offended. “What? Penny, why would I do that? If Baz likes this guy, then-”

“Then you won’t get enough attention from Baz, because he’s got a boyfriend?” I suggest. Simon stays there, mouth hanging open. He looks away from me, and grabs his cup (which is full of water) and takes a long sip.

“I’m just saying, Simon, with your weird obsession with Baz, it’s almost like _you_ want to date him or something,” I teased. Simon swallowed all of the water in his mouth, and slammed the cup down. He leaned over the table, coughing. “Woah woah woah!” he said. “No, no thanks. I don’t even _like_ Baz.”

I lift my tray, standing up to leave. “Of course, you just really really _really_ need to know who he’s crushing on. And what if it’s not you?” I say the last part as i’m walking away, and I hear Simon blustering up a storm from behind me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Songs included are:  
> Ego Capere Flammarum by disgraceRavenclaw (thats me holy shit)  
> I Know I'm A Wolf by Young Heratics
> 
> If u wanna listen to my first draft of Ego Capere Flammarum, it's right here: https://www.noteflight.com/scores/view/48b2e43c9ab4889da7956dbb460a60aa9c84147e


	5. Caesura

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's a bit of a break while the star piano player isn't present.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter:  
> Baz needs a favor  
> Simon is a Top™  
> Simon gets diagnosed with dumbass bitch syndrome

**SIMON**

 

_ And what if it’s not you? _

“Wait- Penny! I don’t- who- what- I!” The words don’t seem to want to come out of my mouth. I watch her leave me to sit in silence. I turn back to the table.  _ Auburn _ hair, Blue eyes. Who the hell could it be? Why isn’t she telling me?

And what if it’s not me? That’s fine. That’s preferable. I don’t like guys! I’ve only ever dated Agatha all my life. Perhaps, if it were...Gareth, or something, I wouldn’t care less. I just don’t really want to think about Gareth and Baz… doing things. Alright, I hope it’s not Gareth, for the sole reason that Gareth is an Idiot, and I know Baz would never date him. 

I heard someone putting a tray down across from me. I looked up.  _ Baz. _ I almost forgot that he was mad at me this morning. I froze, unsure of what to do, but Baz spoke before me.

“Wellbelove said she didn’t want to sit with me, so performing nights might have to wait until she gets over herself.” He was looking down at his food as he spoke. His voice wasn’t exactly aggressive, so I felt reassured that he wasn’t coming over to kill me. Still,you can never be too cautious.

“Sorry about sneaking through your desk and stuff,” I said quietly. Baz didn’t respond. He just looked at his food a little while longer, and hummed. He took a bite of his breakfast, then looked up at me. We both sat and stared at each other. 

“Are you mad?” I ask, my throat closing in anticipation of his answer. Perhaps his rage. He says nothing again (because his mouth is full). Once he’s done eating what’s already in his mouth he draws in a breath. “Not really.”

“Not even a  _ little? _ ” I ask, still not sure this isn’t a trap. He hums. “No, i’m well over it.” He seems calm, and the way he’s speaking to me is polite, but I still don’t fully trust it. I’d love to talk to him about his crush, but I have no hope of getting anything out of him. So, I go for the next best question I can think of.

“So...boys,” I mutter, not very eloquently. He looks up at me, glaring slightly. Maybe I shouldn’t push this question, but I will anyway. “Cause...in your song, you wrote about a  _ hyacinth eyed boy _ . You’re gay?”

His glare got stronger. “Why does it matter?” he barked. I leaned forward a little. “It’s... I just...I wanted you to know i’m fine with it. With you, liking boys. I didn’t want that to be...unclear or anything.”

Baz froze. I could almost hear the cogs turning in his brain. I don’t know that he knew how to respond. I wonder what he’s trying to say.

 

**BAZ**

 

“You’re gay?”

Here it comes. I glared at him. “Why does it matter?” I watch him lean towards me. 

Here it comes.

“It’s… I just…”

Any moment. 

“I wanted you to know i’m fine with it. With you, liking boys. I didn’t want that to be… unclear or anything.”

Well, that’s not exactly what I expected. Had I hunted more last night, I might be blushing. I didn’t really have anything smarmy to say about this; I seriously didn’t expect support. I mean, I expected awkward support. A small “It’s cool, it’s chill or whatever”. Not a drawn out, sincere, deliberate remark with prolonged eye contact.

Oh, right. I’m staring vacantly at his face, and not saying anything. 

I broke the eye contact to look down at my breakfast. I picked up a scone i’d already been taking bites out of occasionally, and mumbled a short “thank you” to Snow, before taking a bite out of the scone. 

“I am curious as to who this guy you like so much is, though.”

Ah, yes, that’s another thing I was expecting. More prying to figure out who my crush is. I made quick work of my scone, swallowing what was in my mouth and finishing it in two more bites. “Well, that’s a grand shame, isn’t it?” I said, trying to regain my cool facade. “Considering nobody but me knows who it is, and I’m not telling you.”

“Penny knows,” he said. I whipped my head up to look at Snow. “What? How did she find out?” I hoped my tone came across as sarcastic, and not incredulous or panicked. 

“I don’t know,” he said, rushing. “But she won’t tell me either, she just called me stupid for not knowing.” 

So she  _ did _ know who it was. Shit!

“Well, good,” I say, laughing out of nervousness. “Frankly, it’s none of your business.”

“Why are you sitting at my table?” He asked. I pained to search for any malice in his statement. He leaned forward on the table a little bit. I made an effort to lean away from him. 

“I wanted to talk to you about Agatha,” I tried. I didn’t want to bring it up, because Snow got prickly whenever I mentioned her (What an idiot- even though he knows i can never be interested in a girl, he still gets all prickly). 

I no longer had to pain to search for malice; Snow was just making it incredibly apparent. Or maybe he was just shit at hiding his feelings. It’s probably both of those reasons. “What is it you want to talk about?” he asked, in a content voice that juxtaposed his hostile aura. 

I cross my legs and lean back a little. Looking over at Agatha’s table, I notice she’s watching us. She’s also bristling, I can tell from afar, just like how Simon is.  _ Exactly _ like how Simon is. I wonder if she’s jealous. Well, that makes 3 of us.

I turn back to Simon before he can follow my line of sight. He tries, but I tap the table to get his attention. “I need you to get her to stop being mad at me. There’s nobody else in the school who plays piano well enough, and it’s… kind of a necessary instrument in all my music.”

Simon looks through me. “She doesn’t  _ have _ to play piano for your music.”

“And  _ I _ don’t have to give up trying to be diplomatic because of it,” I counter.

Simon crosses his arms and leans back. “But you don’t need me to do your dirty work, why are you asking?”

I stare at him, hoping to ingrain the message into his head through my stare, but after a couple moments of silence (aside from the background chatter and my tapping fingers), I realize he doesn’t get it. 

I lean forward and link my fingers together, leaning my forearms flat on the table. “Simon,” I say like i’m talking to a child, “Agatha is  _ mad at me. _ ” He sits completely still continuing to stare at me, as if he’s trying to prove a point. I scoot forward a little, pressing again. “She won’t  _ talk to me. _ ”

I see Simon’s stone expression falter as he realizes why I need him. He leans forward so he’s eye level with me, and my heart nearly jumps out of my throat, We’ve never been so close. (Crowley, not now, teenage romcom brain. Stop that.)

He speaks to me in a hushed tone, like we’re trading top secret information. “And why should I do it?” he asks. He’s not really bristling as much anymore, and I think he knows he’s losing. 

“I’ll owe you a favour.”

I regret the words as soon as they leave my mouth, and I can’t tell why. I rationalize that it’s out of the fear of not knowing exactly what Simon might want of me (he might want me to do something embarrassing, after all, like dress up in a maid’s outfit and do the hokey pokey), but I know a part of my mind (the pesky teenage romcom brain) realized how suggestive it sounded.

Simon stared at me, and I wish I could read his face. The one time he tries to hide his emotions is when I really need to know them. “A favour?” he repeats. 

I swallow nervously. “Yes.” I can’t think of anything snarky to say in this moment. Simon keeps staring directly into me. 

“What kind of favour?”

Merlin, this man is going to kill me one day. “Depends on what the favour is,” I settle on. “Nothing that would damage my image,” I add quickly, because I need to remind myself that ‘dress like a maid and do the hokey pokey’

Simon keeps staring at me. Why won’t he look away? He leans back. “Alright,” he said nonchalantly. “I’ll do it.”

“Excellent,” I say, eager to leave that situation immediately out of embarrassment. SImon grabs my arm. Not to grab my attention, but to grab  _ me.  _ He squeezes it tightly so I can’t walk away. 

I muster all of my strength to turn to snow with a straight face. I glare at him. I can feel his grip loosen, and he drops my arm. I draw the arm back to myself. I can see the people around us turn to look out of the corner of my eye. The immediate area hushes. People are definitely expecting a fight.

Simon noticed too, much less silently. He looked around at the surrounding students, and opted instead to usher me closer; and by usher, I mean grab my collar and pull me in side close our noses could touch if he were any taller. “I’m not forgetting about that favour,” he said. “We’ll talk about it later.” 

 

**SIMON**

 

I lean toward Baz. “And why should I do it?” I say. I know I’m losing, but it’s my last resort. I can’t let Baz  _ win _ right now. I’m still mad at him for 7 years of rivalry, I need to remind myself. 

“I’ll owe you a favour,” he says, almost immediately. He’s already pale, but it’s like whatever color was in his face drained immediately. I could tell he regretted saying it.

Hey, whatever gives me the upper hand.

I keep staring at him, watching the color return to his face, stronger than before. “A favour?” I repeat, stressing the topic. I keep staring him down, and he swallows. He looks extremely bothered by the idea of him owing me a favour. He’s definitely hiding something. “Yes,” he says, his voice unsteady. 

This is fun. Now I can see why Baz teases me so much when I bluster. “What kind of favour?” I ask, like i’m considering something. I have no idea  _ what _ to ask for, but I want him to think I do.

His face becomes even more colorful. He looks like he’s blushing. I can’t believe he’s embarrassed by this. I’ve got him under my thumb now, like a cheap coin. Have I already gone power mad?

“Depends on what the favour is,” he says. I watch his eyes widen a little, and he adds quickly, “Nothing that would damage my image.” 

He keeps squirming under my gaze. I guess I have nothing to lose. I wait for a second before I lean back, and I don’t break eye contact. “Alright, i’ll do it,” I say, coolly. Man, I feel cool like this. Like i’m the one in charge. I could really get used to this.

“Excellent,” Baz says. He gets up to leave, and I feel a sudden burst of energy. I’ll just tease him  _ one more time _ . This is too fun. I reach up and grab his arm tightly, keeping him from leaving. I can feel him tense up. He turns around to look at me.

His glare is  _ freezing _ . Holy shit. Maybe this wasn’t a good idea. Now  _ I _ feel like the one who’s a cheap coin. I let go of his arm, then I was suddenly aware of the eyes of several students around falling on us.

We’d been fighting for so many years, that surely they’d expect a fight now. We haven’t had one all year, anyway. I had to be aggressive; I couldn’t just wimp out when everyone was watching.

So, I grabbed his shirt collar and pulled him down a little to my level. When he lurched forward, I saw his glare falter, but it didn’t falter for long. What was it that made him bothered the first time? 

“I’m not forgetting about that favour, we’ll talk about it later.” I whisper it, so only he can here, and nobody else. There’s still a ring of students around us, watching. Some of them have alerted others, but still, it’s only about 30 students. 

I watch in satisfaction as his glare falters again, and his face grows slightly pink. When I notice he’s chewing on the corner of his lip anxiously, I grin. It’s a shit eating grin, I know. I finally decide I’m satisfied, and I let go of Baz’s shirt collar, before pushing him away gently, and walking the other direction. I grab the last of my food, and head to class. 

Wow. I could call that a power trip and a half. I walk to my first class of the day, and let my mind run over what I should ask of Baz for that favor. When I sit down at my chair, I set my elbow down on the desk and lean my head into my hand, propping it up.  _ Let’s see, _ I ponder.  _ There has to be something I can get him to do. _

A few minutes after my montage of fruitless ideas, Baz enters the classroom. He’s still early, I was just way earlier. Somehow, that feels like a huge accomplishment. I watched him sit down at his desk, and I stared into the back of his head, as if I were willing him to tell me what to ask him to do. 

He pulled a few papers out of his bag. There were lyrics and a few messy staff lines in red ink. Notes were dotted on the staff, and some staff lines were completely scratched out. I wish I knew who he was singing about in his songs.

And then it hit me.

 

**BAZ**

 

_ Fwap! _

I tossed a balled up sheet of notebook paper at Snow’s face. I watched him cringe and flinch away as it landed right on the bridge of his nose. He reached out to stop it, reaction delayed. I chuckled at his failed attempt at saving himself from the wrath of a balled up sheet of paper.

He rubbed his nose like it actually hurt, and glared at me. I grinned, then motioned for him to read the paper. He stared at me for a few seconds, in a trace, then leaned down to pick up the paper. He unfolded the balled up sheet, and took a second to read the message. 

 

**SIMON**

 

_ Fwap! _

Ow! What the hell was that for? I rub my nose. I think he gave me a paper cut… I glare at him, trying to ask him what his problem was. He made a weird motion that I didn’t quite understand. I just stared at him, waiting for him to do it again, but thankfully I realized he meant for me to look at the paper. 

I mumble under my breath about  _ manners _ or something of that sort, and pick up the paper. I noticed some red ink on the corner (At least, I hope it’s ink, and not the result of the paper cut on my nose). I opened the paper to see what it said.

* * *

 

_ Dear Snow, _

_ Stop staring at my head, you fucking numpty. _

_ Respectfully yours, _

_ T. Basilton Grimm-Pitch _

* * *

 

I guess showing off was just in his nature. 


	6. Staccato

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things get a little fast paced. The jam sessions are soon to be back in business, and it's celebrated with a presentation of power in the great hall. Mostly including food.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter:  
> Penny is teasing Simon about everything  
> Simon is gay, _AnD hE dOeSnT eVeN kNoW iT yEt_  
>  Agatha's uwu embawwassed  
> Simon gets dEFENSIVE  
> Penny likes poetry  
> fhgrjkfhfhriu FOOD FIGHT  
>  _The Mage has joined the game._  
>  Baz has left the game.

**SIMON**

 

I wasn’t able to talk to Agatha until lunch.

I spent the whole of Foods going over it with Penelope. “So, Agatha is mad at Baz right now,” I explained, “and I need to get her to not be mad at him so we can keep practicing music in the orchestra room.”

“I never thought i’d see the day,” Penelope chided. I questioned her, “what day?”

“The day you’d try to mend Agatha and Baz’s relationship.”

I bristled. “It’s not a relationship!” I whispered harshly. Penelope looked up at me, hands up. “Relax, Simon. You know I meant a platonic relationship. Stop getting so defensive.”

I crossed my arms. “I’m not getting _defensive_ ,” I snap. My mouth scrunches up in stubborn defiance, because I know what i just said wasn’t very believable.

“Simon, you _know_ Baz isn’t going to try and sweep Agatha away from you. There’s no reason to get so mad about it.” She was smiling to herself as she worked.

“I’m _not_ mad about it!” I say much louder than I meant to. Some of the other students look at us weird. I hunch down under their gaze, and turn my attention back to Penny. “If i were mad about it, why would I be helping Baz?”

“Cause you’re so enamored with him all of a sudden. ‘Specially his whole song writer thing,” she says, killing any words in my throat. “Merlin, all you ever talk about when it comes to him anymore.”

She brings her hands, clamped together, up to the side of her face, and flutters her eyelashes. _”Oh, Penelope, Baz is such a brilliant writer,”_ she says mockingly. She takes her hands apart to hold the sides of her face, and squish her cheeks lightly. _“I’ve never heard such amazing violin skills! And his voice is like butter when he sings…”_ She bats her eyes twice, then closes them and lets out a dreamy sigh.

I could feel my face heating up with every word. (why was I blushing?) “Penny,” I hissed, “Stop that! That’s not how I say it.” Penelope giggles, and points at my face. “Yeah, but don’t deny you wanna say it like that,” she says through laughs. “You’re head over heels for him.” She whispers the next part to me, so nobody can hear. “I’m only waiting for that vampire theory of yours to morph into a siren theory.”

“Penelope,” I said, whispering back to her while she was still close. I tried to look for what I wanted to say that wouldn’t make Penny think I was going soft on Baz. _I don’t think he’s a vampire._ No, I do. _I don’t think he’s a bad vampire_ . Still debating on that one. _I think he’s a vampire, but I don’t want to turn him in anymore._ It’s true, but…

“I still think he’s a vampire. You know that power vampires have where if you look them in the eyes, they can put you into a trance? It might be that. I dunno.” I don’t think so, since he’s been avoiding my gaze during our rehearsals.

Penny grins even more, and her voice starts a steady crescendo. “Oh, so you’ve been doing a little lovesick gazing into his eyes, huh?”

I groan loudly, turning away from Penelope. “I give up.” she laughs behind me.

 

The rest of class passes by, and before I know it, it’s already time for lunch.

I’m walking with Penelope, and she’s on a tangent about something the Old Families did, and i’m not listening. I have to talk to Agatha about forgiving Baz today. _Only way to do good on my favor,_ I think, and chuckle.

Penelope looks at me. “The segregation of the magickal species is nothing to laugh about, Simon.”

I turn to her. “What? Oh, shit, sorry,” I say, sheepishly. “I was just… thinking about something.” I looked away from her gaze. “Oh?” she asks, curiously. “About what?”

I hesitate to tell her. “Baz owes me a favour for this.”

Penelope giggles again. “Ooooo, a _favour?_ ” I swat at her. “Cut it out, Penny!” I whine. She laughs more. “Okay, okay. Fine. What’s the favour?” she asks.

I tilt my head and think about it. “I want to ask him who his crush is.” Penny is eerily silent. I look at her, and she’s biting her lip, trying not to laugh. My face heats up again. “What?” I ask, defensively.

“Sorry, sorry,” she says, letting a laugh escape. “It’s just...You know he’s not gonna tell you, Simon.” Once we get to the great hall, we walk together to get lunch. “No,” I said, “He said it can be whatever, as long as it doesn’t ruin his image.”

Penny frowns. “So, I suppose my recommendation to dress him up like a ballerina and do the splits on Miss Possibelf’s desk is out of the question.” I laugh at that, mostly because now I know why he said his image had to stay intact. “Okay, okay,” I said, “That seems way better than asking who is crush is. But, yes, that’s off the table.”

We begin walking back to our normal table. “I’m just saying,” Penny tells me, “Maybe you should think up a better favour than the crush one. Or a back-up -- you don’t know if Baz is gonna refuse to tell you.”

“I’ll get around it,” I say. I set my tray down to sit at the table, then I look up. Agatha is sitting all by her lonesome. “Right,” I say. “I have to go talk to Agatha,” I tell Penelope. She purses her lips, and nods. “Well,” she says, “good luck with that.”

She goes back to eating, and I get up to leave.

 

**PENELOPE**

 

“I’m just saying,” I tell Simon, “Maybe you should think up a better favour than the crush one. Or a back-up -- you don’t know if Baz is gonna refuse to tell you.”

I know Baz will, because Baz would probably rather _not_ tell Simon he loves him to his face, but I could be wrong. “I’ll get around it,” Simon says, dismissing my advice. He sets down his tray, then looks up as if he’s just remembered something. “Right,” he breathes, then louder, “I have to go talk to Agatha.”

I purse my lips, nodding in affirmation. “Well, good luck with that.” He’s probably going to need it. I turn my attention to my food, and Simon leaves me by myself. I kind of wish he’d stop doing that.

I like sitting with Simon every day. Sure, having to watch him eat is… horrendous, but it’s nice to have him around. Sitting alone is so… well, lonely. Obviously. I slump in my seat while i’m eating.

I hear the sound of a tray being set down across from me, and I look up to see Baz. He looks tired. His eyes are sunken in, more so than usual. (I noticed around 4th year his eyes started to sink in. Some summers, I spend my days worried he’ll be a skeleton when we arrive at Watford next year.) (Now that I think about it, it’s probably a vampire thing.)

The two of us sit in silence for a little while longer. “Simon’s not here,” I tell him calmly. His expression doesn’t change. “I know,” he says. “I can see him over with Agatha. I waited until he left to sit here.”

Oh. He didn’t want to talk to Simon. “You wanted to speak with me?” I asked, incredulous. Baz usually doesn’t interact with me unless Simon is around, and it’s only to call me his babysitter, or something of that type. He nods, and leans forward. “Simon told me you knew who I… liked. Can you tell me how?”

 _Ah, he was over here to kill me,_ I thought. I tried to shake that thought from my mind; he probably just wants me not to tell anyone. “Simon told me about some song you wrote, relayed all the lyrics on me, and asked me who I thought it was, like a blind gnome.”

Baz chuckled at that, which I didn’t expect. “Yeah,” he said, smiling, though I couldn’t tell if the smile was because he chuckled, or because he was daydreaming. “He’s a fucking moron.”

“So, you like him?”

His expression dropped, and he snapped his head in my direction. “Tell anyone and you’re gonna go missing.”

I held my hands up in defense. “Okay, okay,” I said, trying to calm him. “I’m not telling anyone. I’ve got no good reason to. Although, I have to ask…”

A thousand questions ran through my mind, so I picked out the one I thought was least likely to get me killed. A humorous one. “Of all the boys in the school, You picked _Simon?_ Have you looked at him?”

Baz glared at me, but he smirked. “Yeah, I have. I seriously can’t believe it either.” The both of us had a chuckle at that. It feels kind of nice to actually talk to Baz for once.

“Oh, and I heard about all that song writing stuff… can you share your process with me?” I requested politely. “It sounds very interesting.”

Baz’s eyebrows lifted up in surprise. He tugged at his lip with his teeth, and nodded. “Yeah. I’m having a bit of a writer’s block right now, though,” he told me. “I can’t think of anything _positive_ to write.”

I grinned. “I’m good with positivity. May I help?”

 

**SIMON**

 

I sat down next to Agatha. If she heard me approach, she didn’t react. We sat quietly for a bit, and I decided to break the silence. “Hey, Agatha,” I said. She didn’t respond.

“So,” I said, “Baz was talking to me about what happened last night,” I said, louder this time, to try and get her attention. When she didn’t respond again, just shuffled away from me, I was officially out of ideas. I ran a hand through my hair, and blew out all of the air in my lungs. “Well,” I said, “he wanted to know if you were mad at him.”

She looked up at me slowly. Her blonde hair fell from her face. “He thinks _i’m_ mad at _him?_ ” she says in disbelief. I shake my head, taken aback. “Uh...no, Agatha. He just wants to know why you’re ignoring him.”

Agatha looks at me, her face slightly flushed. I don’t want to think about it. She continues; “Are _you_ mad at me?”

I don’t think I am. I’m upset she basically all but told Baz she loved him last night, but I don’t think i’m mad at her for it. I’m just mad it happened. “No,” I settled. “Why would I be?”

Agatha shifted in her seat, squirming awkwardly. “I… okay…” She said. The conversation didn’t go very far from there. I had to carry it. “So,” I asked her, “why are you ignoring Baz if you aren’t upset with him for turning you down?”

Agatha didn’t answer. A million reasons came up in my mind, but I didn’t think about any of them. Any of them except for one, that for some reason, made me really upset. “Agatha,” I asked calmly, “are you ignoring Baz because… he’s gay?”

She looked up quickly, her eyes wide. “No! No, of course not. I don’t have a problem with that,” she said, smiling nervously. I felt a wave of relief overcome me. I don’t know why the thought made me so mad. “It’s just…” she continued. “I’m just so… embarrassed. I shouldn’t have even asked him about the songs, he already told me he didn’t want to tell me.”

Her words started pouring out faster than I could process them. “It was so silly of me to just _assume_ he’d written the songs for me, I mean, it’s not like we live in some bad romance movie. I’m embarrassed that I thought I was the object of the music, and I asked him _in full confidence_ that he would say yes, and…” she trailed off.

“Hey, it’s okay,” I tell her. “It’s alright. I’d be embarrassed if that happened to me, to. You just asked him a question, it’s not like you proposed to him or something,” I consoled. She looked at me sadly. She nodded. “I guess you’re right… I just don’t know how I can face him again. It was so… awkward the last time we saw eachother.”

I grin. “That’s alright. Awkward doesn’t last forever.” I tap on the table. “If you want, he said we still need a piano player.”

Agatha looked at me like I was her saving grace. She smiled. “Okay,” she concluded, “I think i’d like that. Would you still be playing guitar?”

I shrug. “I don’t know,” I say. “Only if Baz writes guitar into his next piece.” Agatha grins. “Even if he doesn’t you better come anyway!” she teases, bumping me with her elbow, and I laugh. “I wouldn’t miss you two perform for the world.”

I look over at Penelope’s table, and see her and Baz sitting there, discussing something. He’s got a few sheets of paper in his hands, and he’s pointing to it, turning back to Penelope to talk to her. She’s moved to sit right beside him. They’re both hunched over the paper, reading side by side, and talking.

I turn back to Agatha. “You want to come sit with me at Penny’s table? Baz is there. Now might be a good time to talk to him about ignoring him.”

She shuffles awkwardly in her seat. “I mean,” she murmurs quietly, “no time like the present.”

 

**BAZ**

 

“There’s a lot of good metaphors in this piece,” Penelope advised. “Try to turn them around, or add something more positive related to it.”

I groan. “Like what?”

Penny purses her lips, and hums in thought. “This line, where you say if he asks you to stay with him, parallel that by saying instead to ask him to always keep him with you.”

I look at Penelope in surprise. “Crowley, Bunce. You didn’t tell me you were shakespeare.” Penelope shrugged (she probably picked it up from Simon). “I like poetry.”

I look at the paper. “Now that i think about it, I could include a little shakespeare in this.” I scribble on the paper. She looks at me, grinning. “Alright, Baz!” she cheers. “Make it work!”

I heard two people approaching, and looked up from the paper. There was Snow, striding back to our table, with Agatha close behind him. “Oh,” I say, “It’s the other two.”

Simon sat down at our table across from me, and Agatha sat across from Penny. She didn’t say anything, so Simon filled the silence. “All patched up,” he said, “Now what’s the plan for the next jam session?”

I scoff. “Calm down there, Snow. We don’t have any songs remotely ready to perform yet.” I show him the paper, and the few lyrics scribbled onto it. “This is about as far as i’ve gotten.”

Snow smirks. “There’s always that one in Latin.”

I glare at him, and try to ignore Penny snickering behind me.

Agatha, looking rightfully confused, speaks up. “Which one in Latin…?” she asks, looking between me, Penny, and Simon. I groan, refusing to answer (for obvious reasons) but Simon, once again, decides to fill the silence I left.

“Baz wrote this one song in Latin, and he is so _whipped_ ,” he says. I shut him down. “I’m not ' _whipped’_ ” I say, making air quotes with my fingers. “I was just a little extra poetic in it, is all.” Simon laughs at that. “Yeah, okay,” he says, “You were feeling _so_ poetic --”

“Don’t you start,” I interrupted.

“-- That you decided to say _I love you_ in the opening verse, _twice --”_

I toss a piece of roast beef at him. “This is slander!” I exclaim. The roast beef lands in his hair, and he looks shocked. He begins to laugh. “Oh, okay, you’re asking for it!” He grabs some roast beef from his plate respectively, and I counter by grabbing some myself. I get up to escape the path of the oncoming beef, but a piece lands right on my face.

I back up and chuck another piece at Snow, and soon it becomes a rapidfire food fight. I look over to my left, and Penny has a glob of mashed potatoes in her hands, launching it at Snow. A piece of mashed potatoes comes right back at her, and I look over to see Wellbelove, not a scrap of food on her (yet), smiling and laughing.

I fix her obvious lack of food by tossing roast beef at her. It lands on her nose, and she feigns offense, laughing, and throwing mashed potatoes at me. We go back and forth until suddenly, I’m hit in the back by a scone. I turn around, and Gareth had several scones in his hand. Then, roast beef was launched at _his_ face; I turn to see Dev and Niall covering me.

It all snowballed into a majority of the great hall rejoicing in a major food fight. Food was _everywhere -_ I had roast beef clinging to my hair and mashed potatoes on my clothes. I’d never admit it, but this is probably the most fun i’ve had in a while. Feels good to feel juvenile again.

I could see Mrs. Pritchard out of the corner of my eye, trying desperately to get us to quit (all in vain, of course). I practically tackled Snow, taking the mashed potatoes out of my hair, and smudging it on his face. I never thought i’d live to see the day that Snow _smiled_ while we were fighting, or that we were fighting like _friends_. I wasn’t even sure that day existed.

“WHAT IS GOING ON HERE?”

And suddenly, silence.

We all turned to see the Mage at the entrance of the Great Hall. He looked absolutely _furious_. He looked around at the students in the hall, and his eyes landed on me and Simon. Well, this wasn’t good.

Suddenly, Simon stands up next to me. “I’m sorry, sir,” he says. “I started it. I threw food at Baz.”

The Mage glared at Simon like a wolf looking at a rabbit, and I looked back at Snow. He sounded confident, but I saw his hands shaking. He really looked like he was about to cry. There was no way in hell I was gonna let him face this asshole’s wrath alone.

I stood as well. “Well,” I said, huffing, “I threw food back. I escalated it.” Simon turned to look at me, surprised.

 

**SIMON**

 

“WHAT IS GOING ON HERE?”

Fuck. It was The Mage.

I turned to look at him. He looked like he was going to explode. When he looked at me, I froze. There wasn’t any use in hiding; i’d only be in _more_ trouble.

I stand up to face him. I notice Baz shuffle away from me as I stand. “I’m sorry sir,” I apologize. “I started it. I threw food at Baz.”

If I paint this as a usual fight between me and Baz, maybe nobody will get in too much trouble. Still, I can’t help but feel my hands shake. It’s not like i’d prefer _me_ being in trouble to the whole school, but I want to at least try and lessen the blow.

“Well, I threw food back. I escalated it.” I turned to look at Baz, who was now standing beside me. He turned to look at me, and nodded. I wanted to tell him to cut it out, and to let me take the fall, but the words died in my throat.

“Simon and Baz,” The Mage said, voice sounding exhausted. “I should have known. Both of you, come with me.”

Some of the students hooed at us for getting in trouble. I looked at Penny and Agatha, both of them with food behind their backs. Penny stepped forward. “I’ll come with you.”

“Nonsense,” The Mage called, stopping Penelope in her tracks. “I only want to speak with Simon and Baz.”

Both me and Baz stand awkwardly, looking at each other for a few seconds, then wincing when the Mage’s voice cuts the air again like a sword. “ _Now._ ”

We hesitate, but follow him, staying silent as he leads us to his office.


	7. Rhythm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Simon and Baz are stuck with a chore, but they make it work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> dsfherh sorry i'm never updating these consistently, it's kind of like *MY THING* to write at least 3000 words per chapter cause I started with like 4000 and I don't wanna underperform  
> Please remember comments are donor's blood for a bleeding author and I bleed for this fic <3  
> In this chapter:  
> Baz needs a fucking nap  
> Simon is a dick  
> hngruerthrhhh duet  
> HNGRUERTHRHHH IMPROVISED RHYTHMS  
> gay

**SIMON**

 

Eventually, I do have to leave the bathroom, so I do so as quietly as I can. Luckily, once my head peeks out into the room, Baz seems to have taken a nap. I suppose he hasn’t slept at all, since he stayed up all night last night writing his song. 

He seems to have gotten dressed while I was in the shower, thankfully. I change into my clothes while he’s still asleep. As i’m slipping my shirt on, pulling it over my head, I start to wonder whether I should even wake Baz up.

I tug the hem of my shirt down, and look over at Baz. He’s totally clocked out. His face is calm and content, and his chest rises and falls slowly. His arms are folded over his chest, kind of like a disorganized mummy. Sometimes, he really does look like a vampire.

That was another thing irking me; Was it really a good idea to be getting so close to a vampire? I’m still not entirely sure Baz won’t chow down on my neck at any given moment. I walk up to Baz’s bed, and kneel down. 

His mouth was slightly open, but as far as I could tell, there weren’t any fangs. His canines were pretty pointy, but not nearly enough to be vampire fangs. Still, I’m certain Baz had fangs.

I’d seen them before, a few times. I thought I saw them. Sometimes, when Baz had nightmares about who knows what, he’d wake up, and his mouth would be fuller. Full of teeth. Never opened wide enough for me to see them in their full glory, but sometimes he would grimace, and I’d catch a glimpse of how long they were.

Other times included that night in the catacombs, where i’d seen him bite right into a rat.  _ A rat.  _ I’m actually kind of glad he’s a vampire and not a human, because normal people don’t put rats in their mouths. And one time, he dropped a book on his foot, and when he hissed at the pain, I swear he had fangs.

Eventually, though, I start to just admire Baz as he’s sleeping. Though it sounds creepy, it’s actually very nice to observe Baz. It’s calming. It’s also good to know he’s finally getting some damn rest.

Too bad that rest has to end. Baz is gonna be mad about having to wake up, but he’ll kill me for not waking him up to go clean. After all, I don’t want to get him in more trouble.I have to wake him up.

I reach out to nudge him carefully.”Baz,” I whisper. “Baz, come on. We need to go clean the great hall.”

He swats my hand away, and turns over. I get up, and walk to the other side of the bed. I sit down so we’re eye level, and he slowly opens his eyes.He looks tired. He makes a face at me, and groans. “Wake me up in a few weeks,” he mumbles, quietly, turning back around. 

At this point, he’s done a complete 360 degree turn, and he’s all rolled up in his sheets. So, I stand, and consider the scene in front of me. He looks like he’s wrapped up in a sheet burrito. It would be so easy to just push him off while he’s all wrapped up. So, that’s exactly what I do.

I reach out and put my hand on the center of his back, and on his thigh. He squirms around for a second. “Simon,” he slurs, voice heavy with sleep, “What are you --”

I shove. He cries out, and falls up the bed, landing with a loud  _ ponf _ . I laugh, and walk back around to the other side of the bed, trying to contain my laughter. 

He’s still wrapped up in his blanket, like a cocoon. I can’t help but start laughing again. He groans, and starts to roll from side to side, struggling to free himself from his soft prison. 

“Crowley, it’s like Azkaban,” he says, voice strained, and I break down, howling with laughter. This is way funnier than it should be. “I need assistance!” he exclaims.

I try to steady my breathing, but I’m still chortling as I bend down to unwrap him. “That was  _ hilarious, _ ” I force through my giggles. He glares at me, then props himself up on his arms to sit upright. 

“What was?” he says. “Nothing happened, and nobody’s going to hear about it.” I cover my face to dampen my laughter, but also to hide my smile at how cute he is when he’s embarrassed. 

He gets up and dusts himself off. “Well, thanks for so  _ graciously _ waking me up,” he says, voice still drowsy. “What’s the idea, anyway?”

I cross my arms, still smiling to myself. “Have you forgotten about the great hall?” 

From his confused face, I would think he had forgotten, but then it dawned on him. He leaned his head back, groaning. “I don’t want to go clean the great hall. This is stupid. I can’t believe i’m being taken out of class for it.”

Baz, ever steadily obsessed with his grades. I grabbed his arm and began to tug him out the door. “Come on, the sooner we do it, the sooner you can go back to class.” He doesn’t protest to any of it.

 

**BAZ**

 

I hadn’t been sleeping for nearly long enough to start dreaming, but I did daydream a little. How could I not? What with Simon getting so close to me, three times today. Well, one of those times,  _ I _ got close to  _ him _ , but he didn’t mind, so it’s still a win.

I told myself that this whole day was just a fever dream, that he wasn’t actually showing interest, but I decided to give myself a little hope here. At least, a little hope that I found when he looked at my eyes. Analyzed me like i’d do to him. It felt so real.

That’s probably why it couldn’t be.

I was roused from my sleep by a faint noise, and a hand nudging my shoulder. I swatted the hand away and turned over, trying to ignore it. I hadn’t slept all night, and I was going to get every hour I missed if I had to fight fang and nail for it. After a few seconds of peace, It happened again. 

I opened one eye, then the other, squinting from exhaustion. Ah, it was Simon. I was too tired to care about whatever he was saying. I groaned at him, turning back over the same way so I was completely encased in my blanket. “Wake me up in a few weeks.”

He doesn’t bother me again, so at last, I feel like i’m safe from his bothering. Then, I hear his footsteps going around to the other side of my bed, so he’s facing my back. I scowl, eyes still closed. If he thinks he can try to get me up, he’d be dead wrong.

Unfortunately, that thought goes unfinished, as I feel a gentle pressure on the center of my back -- a hand. Then another on my thigh. I force my eyes to open a little more.

“Simon,” I say, my voice uneasy, “what are you --”

And suddenly, the pressure increases, and I’m being shoved off of the bed. I let out a loud yowl, and fall face first on the floor. I can hear Simon cackling behind me. I roll around so my back is on the floor.

Simon walks around, and he’s standing above me, still laughing. I need to feed soon, because even at this, I barely even blush. I push to get up, but suddenly realize the sheets are restricting me. I roll from side to side like a helpless swaddled baby.

“Crowley,” I say, trying to be humorous, “It’s like Azkaban.” I make an effort to sound like i’m struggling more than I am, and It works. Simon starts howling and wheezing like a Hyena, holding his stomach. 

“I need assistance!” I yell, and he keeps laughing. Making him laugh makes me way happier than it should. It’s like drinking actual liquid sunshine while you watch a dog carrying a basket full of lollipops, and there’s a baby inside, laughing and eating a lollipop, and there’s flowers everywhere. Maybe that’s an exaggeration, but it just feels so nice.

Simon tries to steady his laughter, and he crouches down to help free me. He pulls away at a few folds and the whole thing comes undone. “That was _ hilarious, _ ” He tells me, still giggling. I resist the urge to smile, and instead, I frown. 

“What was? Nothing happened, and nobody’s going to hear about it,” I say, in a mocked threatening voice. I glare at him for good measure. He puts a hand over his face to hide him smile. Something in me feels a little sad. His smile is so lovely. Why would he hide it?

I get up and brush my clothes off. They’re all matted from the tossing around. I reach a hand up and run it through my messy hair. “Well, thanks for so  _ graciously _ waking me up. What’s the idea, anyway?”

He takes the hand away from his mouth, and I get to see his smile again. He crosses his arms. “Have you forgotten about the great hall?”

The great hall? What about it? Is he talking about when I tackled him during the food fight? Was he actually more upset about it than he led on?

Oh, right. The food fight. We had to clean the great hall. I was  _ not _ looking forward to it. I could barely walk straight, my eyelids burned, and I just felt really awful. I might be a vampire, but I still had to sleep  _ eventually.  _ On top of that, I was beginning to get hungry. Not food hungry;  _ blood _ hungry. 

I groaned, making a show of how much I wanted to go back to bed. “I don’t want to go clean the great hall. This is stupid. I can’t believe i’m being taken out of class for it.”

At that moment, Simon grabbed my arm and began pulling me to the door.  “Come on, the sooner we do it, the sooner you can go back to class.” I didn’t protest to any of it. Mostly because it still puts me in a daze that Simon doesn’t mind just… grabbing my arm and leading me around. 

He knows that I know the way. He doesn’t need to lead me. I don’t even fully understand why he grabbed my arm, and why he’s still holding it, until it slides down to my forearm. Then, to my wrist.

What the hell, right? Today already feels unreal. I pull my hand slightly until he’s holding my hand. I’m brave when i’m stupid tired. What baffles me is that he doesn’t even seem to notice. He cups his palm around mine, and holds it tightly.

I never thought I’d see the say I was holding hands with Simon Snow. I’m holding his hand. He’s holding my  _ hand _ . I’m so lost. His hand is so warm.

Holy shit, i’m holding his hand.

Okay, enough of that. Friends hold hands all the time, he’s just leading me to the great hall because i’m tired and i’ll probably miss a turn on the way i’m my sleepy haze. That’s what I tell myself, but I still feel unbelievably giddy.

As we enter the great hall, we spot Mrs. Pritchard, standing by one of the tables with cleaning supplies; a bucket of soapy water with a mop in it, a spray bottle, a hand towel, and a brush for each of us. Simon drops my hand, and I feel sad at the loss. My hand is still warm.

Mrs. Pritchard turns to us. “There you two are,” she calls, beckoning for us to approach. We do. “I was wondering when you’d show up.”

Simon pointed at me with his thumb. “Baz fell asleep.” I glared at him, still grinning slightly. “Yeah, I took a nap. Food fights wear you out.”

Mrs. Pritchard crossed her arms. “Well, the both of you are gonna be worn out once your done cleaning up the whole great hall with me.” She hands each of us brushes and towels, and points to two buckets of water with mops. They’re on little rolling carts, so they don’t have to be carried. 

“Get to it,” she said. “And no magic.”

 

**SIMON**

 

It’s not like I could use magic anyway, so I wasn’t phased, but Baz seemed bothered. “Why can’t we use magic? It would be so much easier.”

Mrs. Pritchard tsked at him. “This is supposed to be a  _ punishment _ , Basilton. You can’t just whisk all this mess away with magic, or you’ll do it again knowing there’s no repercussions. Now, off with you. Both of you.”

We both take our buckets, brushes, and towels, and I head to the right side of the hall. I think Baz would head to the left, to cover more ground, but he moves to the right with me. I give him a look. “Baz,” I say, “I’ve already got the right side.”

Baz sets down his brush and wraps the towel around his arm. “Well, now the right side will get done twice as fast, and you have someone to chat with.” I suppose he’s right, so I don’t say anything more.

Now, I’m used to manual labor. I cleaned various rooms at a few foster homes while I was in them each summer. I’ve gotten used to this. It’s almost funny how unfamiliar it must be to Baz.

Every time he touches a piece of cold food, he cringes, and shakes it off. He’s very careful and slow, and he misses a lot of spots. I wonder if it’s just a rich person thing. I wonder if his house has a maid. A whole fleet of maids. Is there someone who lifts his head while he’s resting to fluff his pillow?

Maybe i’m exaggerating, but what do I know? I’m not rich. It’s just an educated guess. 

As we’re working, I find myself humming the song he was singing in the shower. I don’t remember all of the lyrics, so i’m mostly just humming it to myself quietly. This is mostly because Baz has yet to uphold his promise of being someone to chat with. 

Luckily, I remember the lyrics of the chorus (or the first part, at least), and I find myself singing it out loud. It’s very catchy. “Gimme that Can’t Sleep Love, I want that Can’t Sleep Love…”

The scrubbing sounds next to me don’t stop, but Baz’s voice starts up on it’s own. “The kind I dream about all day, the kind that keeps me up all night..” I smile, and we keep singing. Gimme that-”

“ _ Can’t Sleep Love, _ ” we both sing at the same time, except Baz has changed his pitch to be lower, so it comes out as a harmony. I look up at him and smile. “We should sing more often,” I tell him. “That’s fun!’

Baz sighs. “Yeah, although I’m pretty bad at writing duets. I’m only good at performing them once they’re already done being written.”

I turn back to my towel. We sit in silence a few moments more. The scrubbing sound next to me continues in even intervals. I bob my head.

 

**BAZ**

 

I hate cleaning. I hate it with a passion. This is why my family has a maid.

I’ve never really had to clean like a Normal before. Even if I spilled something, i’d just whisk it away. I don’t care if it’s a “waste of magic”. Is magic even a finite source? Who cares if we’re wasting it cleaning things up? 

Well, anyway, it’s better than this. 

We’ve moved quite a ways, but it’s taken forever. I’m scrubbing my brush on the floor, and I notice, to the left of me, Simon has stopped cleaning. I stop as well, to look at him.

He looks back at me. “You know how you always work really hard and think while you’re writing?”

Where is he going with this? “Yes.” I shake my head. “That’s what the point of music theory is. Maths. Rhythms.”   
“What about just making the music happen? Like, not thinking about it that much?” He says it like he just recommended a movie, and not like he just suggested music theory is nonsensical at worst, and unnecessary at best. Of course Snow have “Just don’t think” as his leading strategy.

I turn to him, sneering. “Oh yeah, sure. How about  _ you  _ try writing a song with no planning?”

Simon looks at me, and doesn’t do anything. He turns back to the wall, frowning. I hope I didn’t upset him too much. Instead of asking him, I simply look back down as I wet my brush. “That’s what I thought.”

And then, the sound of scrubbing. But not from me, and not at random. Scrubbing in a Rhythm. I recognize it, it’s pretty common. 1 and, and, and 4. I look up.

Simon keeps cleaning, scrubbing at that interval. Along with that, he snaps every second beat. I realize he’s trying to improvise a beat. He looks at me, grinning. 

Well, I guess i’ve got nothing better to do. 

 

**SIMON**

 

I look at Baz, hoping I’m proving my point. He looks back at me as I start to snap. I see him chewing on the corner of his lip (he sure does that a lot, I wonder if it’s nervous habit). For a second, I think he’s going to tell me to cut it out, but instead, he grabs the mop in his bucket, lifts it, and drops it on the beat. 

I chuckle, smiling wider. I turn back to the wall, and keep scrubbing to the rhythm. I stomp my feet on every few beats. 

We keep cleaning like that for a little while. At some point, Baz begins to hum. The melody is nice, and I try to hum something that goes along with it. A few uneasy measures in the beginning lead to a catchy impromptu jam session. It sounds jazzy.

We’re finished before I know it. Baz’s complaining quieted when we began to improvise a beat, thankfully, so I didn’t have to hear his constant groaning and moaning about getting food on his pants. 

Once we’re finished, we hand out cleaning materials back to Mrs. Pritchard. By now, the last class of the day is half over. I turn to Baz. “I promised to meet up with Penelope after classed today, so she could help me catch up on what I missed.”

Baz looked at me strangely. “When did you do that? We’ve spent all day in the same room.”

Fuck, right. “Because,” I bluffed. “Penny made the promise as we were leaving. She didn’t know i’d be gone so long, though.” I can tell Baz has more questions, so I just leave. “See you soon Baz!”

Baz watches me go, and says nothing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please remember that comments are donor's organs for a dying author and I aztec ritualed my heart out for this fic <3


	8. Chord Progression

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys get in a bit of trouble. Simon has a sudden awakening.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ihrufihaeufhoaerfuchurheh oops this wasn't supposed to be this gay but i'm not apologizing  
> HIGH KEY i'm just pumping out the last two chapters I have as drafts because this doesn't get reads like "The One Where Arthur Doesn't Die" does *dab*

**BAZ**

 

I sit down next to Simon. I can tell Simon is sitting up as much as he can so he won’t get the Mage’s chair dirty. I slump in the chair and shift around for just that reason.

The Mage is sat across from us. It feels like the air is made of cement. We sit together in awkward silence, the Mage looking at us like we’ve done something horribly wrong. I suppose we have, but I won’t let him make me feel guilty for it. Simon, on the other hand, looks like a sog who’s tail is caught between his legs.

“Boys,” the Mage starts. He lets the word hang in the air and suffocate us. Well, suffocate Simon. I feel fine. Finally, he continues. “Your antagonism is getting out of hand. It’s manageable when it’s just the two of you, but we can’t trust the other students in the school not to join in on whatever you two are fighting about now.”

“We weren’t fighting,” Simon said, “we were having fun!”

The Mage’s eyes widened. “Is this your idea of fun, Simon? Enabling destructive behavior in your peers? Making a mess of the great hall and forcing our staff to work overtime to clean it up?” At this point, the Mage’s voice was elevated to a stern and loud tone.

Simon stood up. “It wasn’t supposed to be the whole school!” he exclaimed. “We were just messing around, and-”

 _SLAM!_ “Simon, sit down and _shut your mouth!”_ The mage yelled at him. Simon rebounded, pulling himself into his chair and shutting his mouth. “Sorry, sir.”

I didn’t like that. Whatever just happened. I don’t have time to dwell on it, because the Mage is already back to talking. “As punishment, you boys will be excused from your classes to aid in the cleaning of the great hall.” I groaned at that, and the Mage’s eyes shifted to me.

He glared, hard and icy. “Is there something you’d like to say, Pitch?”

“We will be _excused_ from classes, correct?” I ask.

“Did I not just say that?”

I smirk. “I’m just clarifying. Sir.”

I never call him Sir unless i’m planning something. At least, in the past. Right now I just know it strikes fear into his heart to hear me call him Sir. I take pleasure in bothering him. “Right,” he said. “You’re both dismissed to your rooms to clean yourselves up, then right to the Great Hall so you can get cleaning. Mrs. Pritchard will have some supplies for you.”

I nod, and stand up to leave. Simon follows me closely. We don’t talk as we’re walking out of the building, but as we leave, Simon stops me. I look back at him. “What is it, Snow?”

Simon looked down at the ground, rocking his jaw back and forth. He did that a few times before breathing in, and looking up at me.“I’m sorry about getting us both in trouble,” he admitted. “I didn’t mean for it to break out, or get so big. I shouldn’t have tossed food in the first place --”

I interrupt him, and keep walking. “No reason to apologize, Snow.” He has to jog to catch up with me. “It was fun. And way worth it. Did you see the look on the Mage’s face?”

He frowned at me. “What, like he was gonna kill us?”

I grinned. “Like he was tired of our shit. It was so satisfying.” I turn to him. “You have a, uh… a piece of… “ I point to his hair, where there’s a piece of roast beef sticking out. I think it was the first one I threw. He looks up at his head, and peels it of. He looks at it, considering it.

“Don’t,” I say, but it’s too late, and the roast beef is already in his mouth. I cringe. “You’re so disgusting.”

Simon grinned, and chuckled. “You got a piece of beef on your jacket,” he says, and reaches for it. I fan his hand away. “Don’t eat off of me,” I say, as I reach for the doorknob of the Mummer’s house. We’re walking inside, up the stairs, with Simon behind me. “Why not?” he says. “You’re pale enough to be a porcelain plate!”

I turn around while i’m opening the door to our room. “Yeah,” I say, “and twice as expensive. You couldn’t _afford_ to eat off of me.”

We’re already in out room when Simon decides to prove me wrong, swiping a slice of beef off my jacket and shoving it in his mouth. I make a very forced gagging noise. “You’re so fucking disgusting, Snow.”

I’m gathering a clean change of clothes on my bed. “I’ve got to take a shower,” I tell Simon. Simon nods. “Yeah, whatever. Hold still, you’ve got a little…” He walks up to me, and suddenly, his hands are on my face, steadying it.

Woah.

He is… really close. I can see where some food is still stuck to his cheek. His right hand leaves my cheek, and wipes at the corner of my lips.

He pulls away, putting his thumb in his mouth. “Mashed potatoes,” he murmurs around his thumb. Right, of course.

I nod awkwardly, and head into the bathroom.

 

**SIMON**

 

We’re both leaving the Mage’s office, and Baz hasn’t said anything. I can’t tell what he’s thinking; his face doesn’t show any emotion. I bet he’s really pissed that I made him have to miss class to clean up in the great hall.

I try to shake the feeling, but my mind won’t let me. I grab Baz’s shoulder to stop him, and he turns around. “What is it, Snow?” His voice is composed and level, but I don’t know if that’s because he’s not mad or if it’s just the way that he is.

I take a shaky breath, and look at the floor. I rock my jaw in thought about what to say. Finally, I look up at Baz. “I’m sorry about getting us both in trouble,” I apologized, and tried to explain myself. “I didn’t mean for it to break out, or get so big. I shouldn’t have tossed food in the first place --”

Thankfully, Baz cut me off before I started to bluster. “No reason to apologize, Snow,” he tells me as he continues to walk away. I stand in surprise for a few seconds, before I have to speed walk to regain ground.

“It was fun,” Baz explains, “And way worth it.” He turns to me and smirks, mischievously. “Did you see the look on the Mage’s face?”

Was he serious? I frown disapprovingly. “What, like he was gonna kill us?”

Then he grinned at me, satisfied, like someone who got away with stealing the crown jewels. “Like he was tired of our shit. It was so satisfying.”

He turns to me, face skewering. “You have a, uh… a piece of… “ He points at my hair, unable to form words. I look up and pick at my head -- There’s a piece of roast beef there. It’s still warm. I wonder…

“Don’t.” Baz says, and I wonder briefly if he can read my mind. But maybe i’m just predictable. I know it’s going to bother him, and I’m still hungry, so as soon as he says it, I shove the roast beef into my mouth.

He cringes, and makes a “yuck” noise. “You’re so disgusting,” he says, but I know it’s all in good fun. Or maybe he really thinks i’m disgusting. Either way, that’s a win.

We’re walking into the Mummer’s house, and I smile, mirroring Baz’s mischief, and point to his jacket. “You got a piece of beef on your jacket,” I mention, laughing. I reach my hand up to take it (because i’m still kinda hungry), and Baz swats my hand away. “Don’t eat off of me,’ he snarks. It’s silent for a few more seconds, before I start again. “Why not? You’re pale enough to be a porcelain plate!”

Baz turns to me just as his hand grabs the doorknob to our room. “Yeah,” he says, grinning, “and twice as expensive. You couldn’t _afford_ to eat off of me.”

“Hey!” I say, but i’m not sure he heard me, he’s already in the room. Once we’re up there, I can’t help but eye that piece of beef on his jacket, so I take it and I hold it up, making sure Baz can see, while eating it.

“You’re so fucking disgusting, Snow.” The statement is preceded by a dramatic gagging noise, but he smiles very lightly. I don’t know if he knows I saw, but I did, and i’m holding him to it. This is the most I’ve seen Baz smile in my presence… well.. Ever.

He starts taking new clothes out of his dresser. “I’ve got to take a shower,” he says. I not, but i’m not really listening. There’s a bit of mashed potatoes on the corner of his mouth. I didn’t see it, cause he was so pale. (Burn.) I know it’s kinda risky, but I go anyway.

“Yeah, whatever. Hold still, you’ve got a little…” I trail off as I walk up to Baz, and he holds still for me. He leans away when I get close enough to see the details in his eyes, so I take his face in my hands and hold it still.

Time feels like it’s dragging on. This is kind of awkward. Baz’s eyes are dialated, I note, but then turn my attention back to the food. I wipe it off of his face, and when I grace the edge of his lips, I notice his mouth open slightly. It shuts once my hand is off of his face.

That was… weird.

I put my thumb in my mouth, and mumble to him, “Mashed potatoes.” They were cold, and not quite worth it. Baz stands there for half a second, speechless, then nods himself back into reality, speed walking into the bathroom.

Well, that was unusual.

I get back on track. I go looking for my spare clothes to change into. Once I find them, I set them on my bed. I stand still and wait, and I can hear the water in the shower start running with a squeaky turn of a knob.

Suddenly aware that i’ll have to wait for Baz’s shower to be done, I realize i’m gonna be bored in here. I knock on the bathroom door. “I’m goin’ out,” I tell Baz. Silence. “Why are you telling me?” His voice is muffled by the door.

Why _am_ I telling him? “I dunno, so I haven’t just disappeared once you get out.”

He doesn’t respond, so I take it as agreement. I walk to the mummers door and push it open. However, I suddenly realize I haven’t put down my clean clothes, which i’m still carrying. I close the door, and go to put them on my bed.

I walk back to the door, and I reach for the knob, but a sound from the bathroom stops me in my tracks.

_“Tell me am I going crazy? Tell me have I lost my mind?”_

Baz has begun to sing in the shower. I didn’t even know he did that. Wait, he must think i’m already gone.

 _“Am I just afraid of loving, or am I not the loving kind?”_ I should leave him be. I don’t. I sit down carefully by the entrance of the bathroom, and I continue to listen to him sing.

_“Kissing in the moonlight, movies on a late night, getting old, I’ve been there done that, supposed to be hot but it’s just cold…”_

I found myself sighing quietly to myself as Baz kept singing. I really enjoy listening to him. _“Somebody wake up my heart, light me up, set fire to my soul, ‘cause I can’t do it anymore.”_ Wow, Baz is obsessed with fire metaphors.

 _“Gimme that can’t sleep love, I want that can’t sleep love.”_ I almost gasp as he hits a note I didn’t think was possible for him to hit. His voice is so incredibly flexible. I could never sing like that.

 _“The kind I dream about all day, the kind that keeps me up all night, Gimme that can’t sleep love.”_ I try to imagine his face has he’s singing it -- Whenever Baz sings, his face moves in such a way to convey emotion, and it’s unusual to hear him without seeing it. Unfortunately, my mind betrays me, and I realize he’s also kind of… naked in there, so I stop imagining it.

And that’s when I start to think.

I start to think about Baz’s face when he sings, about his soft hands gripping the pen as he writes, about the grace with which he plays his violin. I start to think mostly about what happened between us earlier.

When I held his face still. How his eyes got all wide. How his lips parted. How his face beamed with… warmth. Man. I was getting a little flustered by all this.

Of course, it doesn’t mean anything to realize your roommate is conventionally attractive. He is attractive, objectively. By an objective standard. Just a fact of life. Of course i’ll find him slightly attractive. Enticing, maybe. I stop thinking about it.

The door next to me opens, and I jump. I stand up, and Baz meets my eyes. We both freeze. He’s got a towel wrapped around his waist, and he’s pulling it closer to himself. I beg my eyes not to look down

“When the hell did you get back?” He asks me. I don’t know what to do, so I shrug. “A while ago. Heard your singing. It was nice.”

He looks away sheepishly, chewing on the corner of his mouth. I can’t muster up enough willpower to keep myself from looking at him in full. He’s kind of skinny; not much meat on his bones. He doesn’t really have abs, but his stomach muscles are a _bit_ defined. Must be all that football. If I squint, I can see his ribs. I can see the steam rising up from his body.

I look up. He’s staring back at me. I want to apologize for looking, but the image of Baz’s wet hair sticking to his face kept my throat dry. I swallowed. “I’m gonna go… take a shower too,” I say, slipping into the bathroom and shutting the door behind me.

Merlin, save me.

 

**BAZ**

I turn off the hot water, and step out of the shower, onto the floor mat. I shivered getting out of the shower, as the cold wind hit my skin. I reached for the towel, drying off my upper body, then finally settling it at my waist. I unlocked the door, and pushed it open, into the room.

Once I was _in_ the room, however, I was met with a concerning sight; Simon was sitting right next to the bathroom door. I thought he went out? He stood, and stared at me. We both just stood, staring at each other. That’s probably mostly my fault; I was too busy being confused (and maybe trying to take in the details of Snow’s eyes; it wasn’t often I get this close to him, much less three times in one day.)

“When the hell did you get back?” I ask, almost cringing at my lack of eloquence. Snow looks accused. He shrugs, and tells me, “A while ago. Heard your singing. It was nice.”

I can’t help but look away for a moment. Of course he thinks my singing is nice, he’s told me before. This shouldn’t be bothering me. I guess it’s different cause one of us was naked, and unfortunately, it was me.

Then again, now that I think about it, It would suck for me if Snow was naked, too.

I look back up, ready to tell him off. _Well, you go shower, you dumbass,_ I want to say, but the words get caught in my throat.

He’s staring at my chest.

Is he checking me out? Seriously? It can’t be. I must be hallucinating, or maybe I slipped and died in the shower, and I didn’t notice, and went straight to hell.

He looked back up at me, and we made eye contact. Crowley, this whole thing happening between us was just a mess. He swallowed nervously, and I saw his face redden. Even now, his gaze raked over my face, eyes flickering to look at different things. I wondered what he was noticing about me.

Finally, he turned his head, and looked into the bathroom. “I’m gonna go… take a shower too.” He escapes to the bathroom, like a guilty dog. I can’t help but look on after him.

I decide to go to my bed, and sleep this whole experience off.

 

**SIMON**

 

Turns out, having a shower while trying to clear your head is not a very fantastic idea, because all it does is give me lots of silence and time to think over that weird interaction me and Baz had today.

Both of them.

I don’t really know what to make of it- I mean, until today, I thought I was straight. I don’t even know if i’m gay. I’m not sure it matters. Either way, I can’t help but think of one thing, and that’s to ask Penny what to do.

Not like i’m dependent on her -- I’m really not. I just like to have her outlook on things before I decide to do anything about them. And, maybe, when I don’t have a clue what to do about them.

Once my shower is over, I grab a towel, and I hesitate leaving the bathroom. I kind of want to avoid another awkward interaction with Baz. I stand in front of the mirror and dry off.

I ruffle my hair with the towel. Once I look up at myself in the mirror, I stare for a bit. How the hell did I get here? Crushing on my roommate. Listening to him sing in the shower. The change feels so sudden, but at the same time, it seems so right.


End file.
